Fake It Till You Make It
by im-an-idjit
Summary: He has to actually fly out for Sam's wedding, Cas is coming as his date and everyone thinks it's for real. Dean Winchester is not having a great day.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **It's the usual suspects: Thanks to my beta Audrey, **stelesandwands**, and Ema the greatest, awesomest, coolest, etc.

* * *

"Listen, brother, three days at the lake house and you'll feel like new."

"Yeah, remind me how you have a lake house on our salary?"

It was a blazing hot day, even for Kansas standards, and yet it still didn't stop the streets from being so goddamn busy. A flurry of tank tops, shorts and sandals scurried up and down the pavement while cars sped by in flashes. Several noises drowned one another out, creating a cacophony chaotic enough to give any man a headache. Of course the city was flooded. Today of all days. Where did all these people come from? It was the start of July, summer break was at its highest peak. People were meant to be at the beach, or abroad.

Dean squinted at his friend sitting across him. The damned parasol they were under barely offered any shelter from the glaring sun.

"Besides, where would I find the time to go down there?" he finally continued.

Benny gave a dejected sigh. "True."

"When was the last time you went up there?" Dean asked.

" 'Bout three weeks ago," the other admitted.

The Winchester let out a low whistle. "We _seriously _need a vacation." Dean chuckled.

"Well, after all this, I'm planning on asking for one," Benny assured him. "How's your fishing?"

He was answered with a shrug. "Not too bad. Used to do loads of it when Sammy and me were kids," Dean replied.

"Good, 'cause when you come and visit, we're goin' fishing," his friend said. "It'll calm you right down."

"You got that right." Dean laughed as the waitress arrived with their orders.

She slid the beer and cappuccino over to them without a word, but offered a sweet smile in Benny's direction. He thanked her in his charming, southern drawl as Dean smirked into his glass. Neither spoke until she was out of earshot.

"So," Dean started nonchalantly, "you gonna ask her out?"

Benny chuckled. "What?"

"Dude, she was checking you out. And I'm pretty sure that's her number she left there," Dean informed him, nodding at the napkin tucked underneath Benny's coffee.

The other fiddled with its corner, then took a sip of his coffee, seemingly unmoved.

Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly. "You're not gonna ask her out?"

"Sorry, I'm not interested," Benny supplied.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I know Andrea's your one and only," Dean quipped with a grin. "_Another_ girl you've failed to ask out, by the way."

Benny returned a smile, the usual, weird quirk of his mouth which made him look all calm and wise. Dean had no idea how he pulled the look off. Maybe it was the beard.

"What about you?" His friend interrupted his thoughts.

Dean answered with a puzzled, "Hmm?"

"Have you been seeing anyone lately?" Benny clarified.

He cracked a smile, but Dean knew it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Nah, man. Not really."

"Dean, it's been three months since-"

"Look, I got it, Benny. Don't worry about it."

Benny looked as if he was about to make a reply, but something across the street caught his eye (which really relieved Dean). The Winchester followed the other's gaze, and found a young man leaving the nearby Chinese restaurant. The guy looked tentatively both ways before he carried on down the street, tucking something small and flat into his pocket.

"That's him," Dean announced.

Benny hastily left some cash on their table. "I'm gonna get the car, you follow him."

Dean wanted to point out that Benny always drove, but didn't argue as the other man disappeared in the opposite direction. He carefully jogged over the road, eyes set on the nervous man and hand hovering over his gun. It seemed that every person in town was heading right at Dean. He pushed past them, grumbling half-sincere apologies, trying hard to stay focused on the target in front of him. Dude was graceful as a cat. Meandering around the crowd like it was no problem, he kept his head low and hands deep in his pockets. A skill probably developed during his work as a food delivery boy. Or moonlighting as a messenger for the local Chinese mafia. Either worked for Dean.

The Winchester was just about to grab him, when he felt a sharp jab in his shoulder, followed by a loud protest in his ear.

"Watch where you're going, man!" the guy in the suit demanded, but Dean payed no attention to him.

Fortunately, delivery boy was still in sight. Unfortunately, he'd spotted Dean.

The kid burst into a sprint as Dean muttered a brief, "Shit."

He started after him, no longer caring for the complaints that followed him. His legs blindly lead him forward for a short while, since the guy had disappeared, but Dean soon caught up to him as the crowd melted away. After checking over his shoulder, his target looked quite surprised when he saw the other right at his heels. He set into a faster pace, zipping into a narrow alley. Trash cans tumbled to the floor as the dude toppled them over in attempt to stop Dean. The Winchester avoided them easily, because God knew how many times that had been used on him. There was a sudden stop, and the delivery boy started up one of the fire escapes. Dean briefly thought of taking out his gun, but realised it would do him no good as the guy was protected by the steel cage. So instead, he headed up after him.

They ran all the way up to the roof, and gravel squeaked beneath their shoes as they raced towards the ledge. Dean expected the dude to stop, but instead-

"Son of a bitch."

Guy leapt over the gap like it was no big deal.

Knowing Benny would kick his ass if he lost their suspect, Dean sucked in a sharp breath before following the other's lead. His heels all but wavered over the edge when he landed, but the chase pressed onward.

Dean really hated it when he had to chase down the suspects. Benny had always insisted Dean was more fit for the job, but it was easy for him to say when he wasn't the one coming home with a sprained ankle or bruised shin. The Winchester promised himself to force Benny onto a treadmill this summer.

Luckily, the next ledge was much further away from its neighbour. Dean stopped about five feet in front of the delivery boy, before pulling out his gun.

"All right, buddy, game over," he puffed as he aimed. "Now get your hands up-"

The other didn't seem interested in what Dean had to say, because he suddenly hopped over the edge and plummeted downwards. Dean rushed over, and for a moment, considered not looking down. He seriously hated heights. But he bit the bullet and did anyway.

"Oh, come on!" he groaned.

His target was clambering out of the garbage container and trying to stabilize his feet. Dean pocketed his gun, grit his teeth and jumped.

It was possibly the worst thing he'd ever experience. People might expect it to feel like flying, but honestly, all Dean felt was as if he was falling to his death. He landed with a soft thud, sending a few papers, a banana peel and a Coke can soaring over his head. Knowing he had very little time, he rolled over the edge and looked around for that damn asshole. Of course, he was already halfway down the alley.

Dean forced himself into a full-blown sprint, desperate to catch the guy. There was no way he was letting him get away. Not after two weeks of nothing. The delivery boy was too fast, however. Dean barely crossed half of the alley when the other reached the exit. Dean was positive he was going to lose him, going to have to spend another week tracking him down again-

Tires squeaked against the ground, followed by a dull thud. Dean grinned. He had never been so happy to see his partner.

Benny stepped out of the car and towered over the delivery boy, who was doubling over in pain on the ground, having just crashed and soared over the car's hood.

"Eddie Tan," Benny announced. "You're under arrest for the murder of your brother. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and _will_ be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to a lawyer, if you do not have one, the state will provide you with one." He got the cuffs on without any trouble, then grinned at Dean as he shoved Eddie into the back of car.

"Next time," Dean wheezed. "You're jumping into the damn trash."

* * *

The trip back to the station was quiet, Dean still heaving for breath and Benny focusing on the road. When they got back, the latter offered to give Eddie his one phone call before escorting him to the holding cells, while Dean rested at his desk. The Winchester saw no problem in this, and gladly settled in his chair, thanking his lucky stars they'd finally caught the guy before he'd fled out of the country to avoid prosecution. He groaned as he leaned back, his spine popping comfortably. After this whole affair, he was ready to dedicate a whole day to napping.

"Winchester, I see you're back," the sound of Chief Henriksen's voice interrupted. "I presume you've caught your suspect?"

Dean gave an affirmative nod. "He's calling his lawyer now. Benny's gonna take him down to the cells."

The Chief huffed in amusement. "I doubt the guy's case'll stick, but hey, the law is the law."

"Guy kills his own brother for some rite of passage," Dean spat. "What an asshole."

"He'll have plenty of time in prison to learn to live with that," Henriksen agreed, his voice somber.

They shared a comfortable silence as Dean struggled to get his desk into a somewhat presentable working space.

Henriksen waved a hand at him. "Leave it alone. I'll get someone to put the files away," he said. "You go home and rest now, you smell like garbage."

Dean's head dropped into the back of the chair.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time he'd gotten back to his apartment, Dean's legs were ready to fall off. He made a beeline for the bathroom, and didn't leave it for a good half hour. When he got out, his towel wrapped snugly around his waist, he looked for a clean set of clothes, which in itself was a challenge since he hadn't done the laundry in three days.

Once he was dressed and more focused, Dean could see just what a mess his apartment was. Takeout leftovers from several different restaurants were scattered all over, and there was a tower of pizza boxes leaning dangerously by the couch. The Winchester grabbed a black garbage bag in attempt to get some cleaning done. Honestly, the sanitary conditions of his apartment had been the last thing on Dean's mind. All week, he'd been trying to hoard enough evidence to pin Eddie Kim to the murder. He and Benny were positive it had been him, but thanks to the startling efficiency of the Chinese Mob, all traces were long gone. They managed to wring a statement from one of the witnesses, a tiny, old lady who lived across the street from the brothers and saw the quarrel through her window. It was pain trying to get her to confess, because the woman was terrified out of her mind.

The garbage bag was filled to the brim, and Dean only had to grab two pizza boxes under his arm as he carried the rubbish outside. It was as he was entering his apartment again that his phone sounded.

"Detective Winchester," Dean answered after a few seconds of delay.

"_Dean, it's Benny. Just wanted to let you know we got a full confession from Kim_," his partner's voice rang through the line.

"Awesome, you got anything on the rest of those bastards?" Dean asked, balancing his phone in the dip of his shoulder as he hauled the over-due laundry into the washer.

"_He's damn loyal, but I got him to name a few. Told him it might ease his sentence."_

Dean doubted it, since he was being trialled for murder, but he honestly didn't care if Benny had lied to the guy.

Benny went on, _"__Anyway, Henriksen says to give him a call, figure out some time off. Says we deserve it."_

"Damn right we do." Dean chuckled.

"_Now, to settle your visit to my humble holiday home."_

"There's no swaying you, is there?" Dean asked.

"_Not a chance," _Benny said with a chuckle.

"Look, I'll see if I have anything to do on the weekend, which I doubt. I'll give you a call," Dean promised.

"_Good enough for me."_

"All right, Benny. I'll talk to you later."

Setting his phone down on the coffee table with the intention of crashing on the couch next to it, Dean spotted his desk across the room. All sorts of crap was piled up there; files, photographs, documents, photocopies from the case. He decided to put it away and take it down to the precinct tomorrow. The folders were organised back into chronological order, and as Dean tapped them upright against his desk, he noticed something else that didn't belong to the case. His mail, which he'd brought in at the start of the week, but didn't get a chance to look at. A brief scan concluded they were mostly bills and newsletters (he seriously had to cancel those), but he came across one perfect, glossy lilac envelope. When he opened it, two letters popped out.

"_Dean Winchester,_" Dean muttered softly,_ "__you are cordially invited to the wedding of Jessica Moore and Sam Winchester. You are expected at-_ Oh, shit!"

Sammy's wedding. He completely forgot. Didn't that just make him feel like crap.

Sam had finally grown a pair last summer and proposed to his long-time girlfriend, Jessica, who he met at Stanford. They dated ever since they were freshmen. After they graduated in May last year, he finally popped the question while they were in France for the holidays. Dean knew Sam had been planning it even before graduation, and he was glad he was finally doing it, because he knew Jess wasn't the type to wait around forever.

Dean quickly went over the other letter from the envelope. It was from his mother, who still preferred writing by hand over sending e-mails, asking him to call her once he'd read the letter and found the time. Dean grabbed his landline and immediately noticed the several voicemails, all probably from his mom and brother. Without wasting much time, he dialled Mary's number.

One ring, two rings.

"_Hello, Mary Winchester speaking."_

"Hey, Mom. It's me," Dean greeted while he settled onto the couch.

"_Ah, lo and behold, he lives!"_ Mary laughed. _"__How are you, sweetheart? Work been tying you down?"_

Dean groaned. "You have no idea."

"_How long were you working on it?"_ she asked, her voice soothing and sympathetic.

"Two weeks," Dean returned. "But we got him, the ass. You wouldn't believe... Never mind, it's better if I don't tell you."

Mary heaved her _I-constantly-worry-about-you_ sigh.

"So, about the wedding," Dean attempted to steer the conversation in a new direction. "I seriously have to come down all the way to California?"

"_Of course you do! It's your brother's wedding!_" his mother told him.

"Why couldn't they have it in Lawrence? Half of his friends live here," Dean protested.

"_And the other half in California,"_ Mary reminded.

The other snorted. "Fine. Can't believe I'm gonna have to fly."

Mary's laugh echoed through the phone, instantly lifting Dean's spirits. She always made him smile easily, just by being herself. _"__When's your flight booked again?"_

"Uh-" Dean pushed around his desk, opening several drawers in search of his plane tickets. "This Sunday, 17th."

"_Oh, good. That gives you a week before the ceremony," _Mary said. _"__You'll have enough time to spend with Sam. He's been dying to see you."_

"Wait, you guys are already there?" Dean asked.

"_Of course! Flew in on Monday. I've been helping Jess and her mom as much as I can."_

Dean smiled. "What about Sammy? He okay?"

"_Well, your father's been telling him stories from our wedding, but I don't think John knows the proper meaning of 'encouragement',"_ Mary said, and Dean knew she was grinning. She always was when she teased John.

"He tell him about the cake mix-up?" Dean wanted to know.

"And _the missing pastor_," his mother confirmed.

They both burst into laughter, the image of a terrified Sam and an oblivious John stuck in Dean's mind. Mary sighed again as their laughs died down.

"_It'll be so nice when you get here. I miss having all my boys with me_," her voice was soft, warm. _"__I see so little of you and Sam."_

Dean nodded, chewing on his lip absently. "Yeah." In attempt to lift the mood, he said, "But hey, Sam doesn't go on his honeymoon until three days later. You have us to yourself for like, ten whole days, you're gonna get so sick of us."

"_I certainly hope so."_ She then started,_ "__Honey, you know you can bring a plus one, right?"_

Dean groaned inwardly. Here they go again. "Mom, I told you, I'm not interested in seeing anyone right now."

"_Sweetheart, it was three months ago,"_ Mary said sadly.

"I know, Mom, I know," he answered. "I just... I don't know."

"_If you're so caught up about it, why did you two break it off?"_ she asked softly._ "__Lisa was a nice girl."_

"It's- It's complicated, Mom."

The longest Dean ever managed to have a relationship was a year and a half, and it was with Lisa Braeden. They met in the gym Dean sometimes visited. Lisa was a yoga instructor there. They'd hit it off immediately, and five months after they'd started dating, Dean moved in with Lisa and her son. Dean and Ben got on perfectly, and the kid idolised him, something that reminded Dean greatly of Sam. It was one of the greatest periods in Dean's life. They took turns making dinner, had their own dishes shifts, and Dean often stepped in to drive Ben to school when Lisa couldn't. It was almost perfect.

But after a while, things turned sour. Dean and Lisa started arguing, and more often than not, the Winchester slept on the couch. Every little thing seemed to go wrong, and he had no idea how to fix it. Lisa didn't want to talk about it, not to him nor to Ben. It was only after one of Dean's biggest cases that he finally figured it out.

A few weeks before they broke up, Dean had gotten a call from Henriksen, requesting him to haul ass to the station pronto. When he had gotten there, Benny brought him up to speed with what was going on. Some convicted criminal, whose record was a kaleidoscope of crimes, had broken out of prison and had been reportedly seen hiding out in Lawrence. The FBI was leading the case, but Henriksen assigned Dean and Benny and several others to accompany them. Tracking the guy down took almost a month, and when they finally caught him, it was really worth of any Hollywood movie. Dude set off small bombs everywhere, civilians were taken hostage, and there was shooting all over. Dean had been involved in two of the three gunfights, and was there when they inevitably shot the dude. The Winchester himself suffered some injuries, the worst being the bullet grazing on his shoulder.

When he'd finally gotten home with the news, Ben was thrilled, wanting to hear all about it. Lisa, not so much. They ended up having their biggest argument yet; Lisa yelled about how she always had to worry whether or not Dean would be coming home, but she knew it wouldn't be fair if she asked him to stop because it was his job, and how Ben had taken an interest in his work now, and she just didn't want that kind of life for her son. In the end, when they were both huffing and blue in the face, they decided it was best for everyone if they just broke it off. And even though Dean fully agreed, it still felt as if someone carved his heart out with a butter knife and punted it across the room.

"_Dean?_"

"Huh? Yeah, I'm still here."

"_I said, I'm sure you two had good reasons, but this is not the right way to handle it. You have to let it go. I trust your judgement, and if you thought that cutting ties was the best for you, then it was,"_ she explained._ "__If you like, I know Jody has a friend you might be interested in."_

"Jesus, Mom, I really don't want to." He sounded like a petulant child, but at the moment, he didn't care.

"_Honey, I'm giving you options."_

"You've been doing it ever since I broke up with Lisa," Dean reminded her.

"_I just want to help you!"_ she said.

Dean ran a hand through his hair. "Well, you don't have to, Mom!"

"_Dean, please-"_

"No, Mom! Look, it's fine!" And before his brain to catch up with his mouth, he blurted, "I already have a date!"

A stunned silence.

_"Well that's great,"_ Mary said cheerfully._ "Who is it?_"


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel Novak sat quietly in his seat at the enormous oak table, his brother Lucifer stretched out beside him. Across from the blond sat Michael, and to his left was Gabriel. It was a simple, brotherly lunch in Michael's penthouse. The sun was glaring mercilessly outside, but the A/C offered air cool enough to breathe that wouldn't sting your nose, fry your lungs and boil your sinuses. The soft sound of the radio echoed throughout the apartment. But as usual, things went terribly wrong, because Lucifer had no sense of timing at all.

"You're opening a _strip club?!_" Michael demanded.

"Co-owning. _Co-owning_ a strip club," Lucifer insisted.

"There's no difference!" came the reply of the eldest.

"Come on, Mike. You're always going on about how you want us to be happy, and follow our dreams," the blond coaxed.

"Pardon me if I'm wrong, but last time I checked, you were gay, and taken," Gabriel reminded him. "What do you need a strip club for? You have Balthazar!"

"Okay, one, I prefer the term, _Balthsexual_, and two, I thought you were on my side!" Lucifer returned.

"I'm on your side, Lu!" Gabriel ignored the glare and slacked jaw from Michael.

"Look, Mike," Lucifer said slowly. "It's not like I'm gonna be using the joint. What's the problem?"

Gabriel ignored their antics and looked at his youngest brother. "Cassie, eat the veal. You're getting too skinny, kid."

Castiel smiled softly. "I'm glad you did the cooking, Gabriel. Everything is wonderful."

"Aw, stop, you're making me blush," the other teased. "Besides, why have anyone else cook when you've got a pro chef for a brother, right?"

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. "Lu, I just think Dad would want us to spend the _ridiculous_ amount of money he left us on something more useful."

Lucifer snorted. "Well, unless he comes out of hiding and tells that to my face, I'm going through with it," he muttered.

Michael fixed him with his _don't-you-start-now_ glare. "And another thing," he went on, "I don't think Crowley's a particularly trustworthy business partner."

"I _know_, I'm not an idiot," Lucifer retorted. "But hey, he offered a good deal and I took it."

Michael was about to make a retort, but Gabriel cut in with, "Oh, just shut up and eat the lunch I lovingly spent two hours on!" and gave him a bowl of guacamole. "So, Cassie," Gabriel went on, still watching the other two. "How'd the finals go?"

"Most of my students passed with As," Castiel said, if not a little smugly. He loved teaching early European history, and he loved that his students were so interested in it.

"What periods did you lecture about?" Michael asked with a comforting smile.

"We passed Ancient Greece, the La Tène culture, and the development of the Roman Empire in the first semester," Castiel explained. "Then in the second, it was the Byzantine Empire, the Viking Age and I only started a little of the Middle Ages."

"Okay, okay, no need to get all high and mighty, _Professor_ _Novak_," Lucifer teased.

The front door of Michael's penthouse opened and smashed to a close, followed by a cheery, "Sorry I'm late!"

In the corner of his eye, Castiel saw Lucifer perk up at the sound.

Balthazar came to a stop in front of the table, arms crossed and a smirk in place. "Well, isn't this a lovely sight? Sitting together and smiling like a proper family, eh?"

Michael rolled his eyes, but a fond smile found its way on his lips. "Take a seat, Balthazar. Gabriel's overdone it with the cooking, as usual," he told him, earning a sharp, "Hey!" from the aforementioned Novak.

Balthazar gave his usual, breathy chuckle before settling in Lucifer's lap and proceeding to kiss the daylights out of him, much to the others' discomfort.

"Balthazar, we're eating," Castiel reminded as he forced the Brit's hand away (it was in the danger of ending up in his plate).

"Sorry, I can't stay long," Balthazar informed them, but he seemed to be talking to Lucifer more than anyone else. "Bloody summer sessions."

"You should have done them in June," Castiel told him sympathetically. "Anna's taking over my classes this month."

"Yes, well, unlike you, I needed a month off before I went back to teaching those sods," Balthazar grumbled, running his fingers through Lucifer's hair.

"Remind me, what made you decide to be a teacher, Balth?" Gabriel asked with a grin worthy of the Cheshire cat.

"I like my title," the other replied with a cheeky grin.

"_Do_ you now, Professor?" Lucifer purred.

"Okay, _no_. Stop it. I think I'm scarred enough as it is," Michael said wryly.

Before Lucifer could make an undoubtedly inappropriate comment, Castiel's phone rang. All four heads snapped to his direction. It had turned so quiet that he could hear his own fork clank softly as he set it down. Castiel fished his phone out of his pocket, and couldn't deny the stutter his heart made at the name of the caller.

"Excuse me, I'll take this," Castiel murmured. "It's Dean."

Gabriel smirked at Lucifer. "Oh, it's _Dean_."

Apparently, Castiel's face decided now was the time to imitate a tomato, but he glowered at his brothers. He stood up from the table as Balthazar gave a well-meant catcall.

Although he adored his siblings, Castiel often wished he hadn't told Lucifer about his feelings for Dean. Instead of giving his youngest brother advice, the blond went on to tell Gabriel about it, and the two had been teasing Castiel about it ever since.

It had started when the two met in high school, but then it had only been a harmless crush. But somehow without him noticing, in time it grew into something much more serious. Castiel knew that, on paper, they seemed too different and an unfitting pair, what with Castiel's love for books, history and classical music, and Dean's obsession with food, action films, classical _rock_ and cars, particularly his own '67 Chevy Impala. Castiel was calm and polite, Dean was arrogant and cocky.

But when they were with each other, everything sort of clicked. Their differences complimented each other, in a way. Castiel was never happier than when he was with Dean. The Winchester helped him when his father decided to cut all ties with him and his brothers back when he was a sophomore in high school, and Castiel comforted Dean when Sam decided to move away for college (not that Dean ever voluntarily showed he was upset, but Castiel could read him like an open book). In all honesty, falling in love with him was inevitable.

It was too bad the feelings were one-sided. As far as Dean was concerned, Castiel was his best friend. Nothing more.

Castiel finally answered when he was in the safety of Michael's guest bedroom. "Hello?"

_"Cas, I fucked up."_

A wave of panic washed over Castiel. Dean got into all sorts of trouble as a homicide detective. Usually, it was nothing worse than a few cuts and bruises, but this time, Dean sounded really sullen. _Oh, God, what if he's bleeding out to death somewhere?_ The hysterical part of his brain screamed.

"Where are you? Are you all right?" he asked.

_"What? No, I'm fine. I'm at home,"_ a groan sounded from the other line. _"I just- You free to come over? I can't do it over the phone."_

"Okay," Castiel said with a nod. "All right, I'll be there in two minutes. I'm at Michael's."

_"Awesome."_ Although Dean sounded anything but 'awesome'.

When he reappeared, everyone hadn't seemed to have moved from their spots, although Balthazar finally got off Lucifer's lap.

"I have to go," Castiel said.

"What, now? Come on, Cassie, this is the first time we're together since Michael got back from New York!" Lucifer whined.

"I know, I'm sorry," the other returned.

"Well, they do say love makes you do crazy things," Balthazar drawled.

Michael stood up and Castiel gladly accepted his hug. "I'll be here all summer, don't worry about it," the former said.

He said goodbye to the others, and with a wry, "Don't torment your students, Balthazar," he was out the door.

* * *

As promised, Castiel arrived at Dean's shortly. He was buzzed up immediately, and he wondered what had riled up his friend so much. He knew from his late visits to the station to drop off some dinner for him that Dean had been working on a case for over a week, and that he wasn't sleeping properly. The elevator ride was short, and he barely managed to knock when the door swung open.

In the doorway stood Dean, dressed in a snug-fitting black tee and sweatpants. All of his worries seemed to have gone away for a moment; he grinned widely, and his eyes genuinely crinkled. Cas' heart leapt a little at the thought.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel greeted him calmly, the way he knew would relax the other immediately.

"Cas, hey," Dean returned, licking his lips. Castiel followed the movement very carefully.

As he stepped inside, he was hit by a wave of different smells. There was take-away food, like chinese and thai, and the air was horribly stuffy, as if the window hadn't been opened in days. But above all, there was the comforting smell of _Dean_. It was the mint shampoo he used, a hint of grease and his natural, comforting scent.

"Want something to drink?" Dean's voice echoed from the kitchen.

"I wouldn't say no to a beer." Castiel first headed to the windows behind the desk, and opened them as wide as they could go. "How are you?"

"Ugh, don't ask. I just wrapped up that James Tan case today,"came the reply.

"You found his brother, then?" Castiel asked, wincing slightly at the memory of what the case had been about.

"Yeah." Dean snorted. "Benny called half an hour ago. Eddie'll be going away forever, from the looks of it."

"No less than he deserves then," Castiel murmured sombrely and he settled on the couch next to Dean.

"Cas."

The Novak looked up at the mention of his name. Dean was smiling softly at him, his lips quirked in a crooked angle. For the first time that day, Castiel was able to look at him properly. His green eyes were warm and inviting, despite the dark circles beneath them. His blond hair was sticking up in a million directions, and his endless freckles were more obvious than ever in the sunlight. Castiel often considered the Winchester's face as the answer to world peace. He wanted to reach out so badly, wanted to run his fingers through his hair, trace the trail of his freckles, feel his stubbled jaw, kiss his full lips.

But instead, he stated, "You sounded unnerved on the phone. What happened?"

Dean puffed through his nose, rubbing his hand over his face. "I, uh, talked to my mom about Sam's wedding."

"That's good." Castiel nodded.

"No, not good," Dean insisted. "Because she tried to set me up with one of her friends again."

Castiel knew he was skating on thin ice now. He chose his words carefully, "Dean, you know she's only worried about you."

"I get that, and I appreciate it, but I just-" Dean groaned. "Shit, I did something really stupid, Cas."

"What happened?" Castiel repeated.

"I put my foot in my mouth is what happened," he grumbled. "I-" He met Castiel's gaze, and suddenly, he turned red to the tip of his ears. "I might have, uh, told my mom that- that I'm taking you as my date."

Cas couldn't get past the words 'you' and 'my date'. He blinked at Dean, unsure whether this was a dream or reality.

Dean pressed on, "So I'll get you a plane ticket, if you wanna come with me. Which you totally don't have to, by the way. I get it if you... don't wanna go." His voice trailed off uncertainly, and for the first time, Castiel saw Dean unsure.

He offered a small smile, the kind he only reserved for Dean. "When is our flight?"


	4. Chapter 4

Turned out, trying to buy another ticket a week before the flight didn't sit too well with whoever the hell he got at _American Airlines._ The guy barely contained his annoyance with Dean, something he really didn't need, thank you very much. After the third, "Yes, I _know_ I shouldn't be buying tickets a week prior, but somethin' came up, and it's urgent." In the end, dude politely (and just as coldly), informed him that they were sorry, but there weren't any available seats left in the aircraft, let alone his seat row. Dean rolled his eyes, bit back a snide remark and thanked him instead.

Cas was surprisingly unmoved by the fact they'd be travelling separately, maybe even _days_ after one another (and fuck, how was he supposed to explain _that_ to his family?), even when Dean pointed out that he couldn't get a refund for the ticket and choose a different day instead. He simply placed a hand on Dean's arm and assured him that he'd handle it. But Dean doubted he could force the airline to kick someone off the plane. Cas could get pretty scary when he wanted to, but that just wasn't the type of thing he'd do. Dude wouldn't even wash a spider down the bath tub drain, for Christ's sake.

But lo and behold, the following day, Dean received an envelope from the airline, with a check for the exact amount he'd paid for his ticket and a letter of thanks for considering to fly with them. Dean had no idea what Castiel had done. He'd called him for an explanation, but Cas huffed a small, mysterious laugh, and told him to be at the airport on the original day, the original time. Dean had an uneasy feeling Michael had something to do with it, or at the very least, one of the Novaks. Perks of having a father who owned a supposedly 'small' business empire, he supposed.

And so Dean had Benny drive him out to the airport a week later, on the 17th at 11 AM. Castiel was waiting for them in the parking lot, a sleek, black suitcase on his right and Michael on his left. Dean's stomach knotted as his suspicions were confirmed. He wasn't comfortable with the idea of the eldest Novak doing him any favours, because there was literally nothing Dean could give back in return. Unless Michael needed advice on how to get away with murder. But then again, Dean reasoned as he said goodbye to Benny and approached the two brothers, Michael probably had guys for that too.

One of the things that had always struck Dean as funny was the Novak siblings' weird inconsistency in similarities. There was Michael, with his black hair and light eyes, and then there was Lucifer, who looked nothing like him. Okay, ignoring his blond hair, Lucifer had the blue eyes. But his were more of an icy blue, compared to Michael's stormy shade. And after that came Gabriel; the only brother with brown hair and hazel eyes. If it wasn't for the shitty sense of humour he shared with Lucifer, Dean would have thought he'd been adopted, or at least a half-brother.

Last was Castiel, undoubtedly Dean's favourite of the bunch. And not just cause he was the only brother he could spend over an hour with (sometimes even over _several_ hours), but because he was the one who kind of brought the whole family together. In terms of looks, he had the same dark hair like Michael, and the familial blue eyes. But his were unlike any shade Dean had ever seen. The Winchester called it cerulean, a term he learnt when Sam had used to describe the Californian sky in the hot summers. Cas shared the same serious attitude as Michael and could be just as terrifying sometimes, but he had a ridiculously big heart like Gabe, and was as scarily clever as Lu.

But all four were fiercely loyal; you had to work to earn their trust (Dean couldn't blame them, with the shit their father put them through), and that was the one resemblance they all shared.

Castiel's lips quirked into a smile when Dean stopped in front of them, while Michael offered a nod in greeting, and the former fell into step with him as his brother picked up his ringing phone. Dean didn't break the silence, since he was too busy trying to wrap his head around the fact that he'd told his mother he was bringing _Cas_ as his _date._ He had no idea what possessed him to say it in the first place. He decided to ignore the fact that his best friend had been the first person to come to mind when he was considering dates because that was a road he didn't dare go down.

Listening to Michael's orders to, "Move Raphael to the 3 o'clock, and then schedule a meeting with Naomi at 5," Dean headed towards the baggage registration when he heard his name.

"We're not there," Castiel told him once he was by his side, and lead him towards the opposite, emptier side of the terminal.

They followed Michael to a secluded security check, where he simply pulled out a card, similar to a driving licence, and slid it over to the guard. With a quick but thorough glance, he let them through and wished them a safe flight. Dean grew more and more confused by the second, and the excited twinkle in Cas' eyes didn't really help calm him down. The sound of wind whipping wildly suddenly caught his attention, and he'd realised Michael had lead them to one of the runways with surprisingly little trouble.

"And if Zachariah calls one more time, feel free to hang up, or better yet, ignore it altogether," Michael sighed. "Yes, that would be all. Thank you, Hester." Michael hid away his phone in the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. "Weather's nice enough. Should be no trouble, Cas," he told his brother.

"Uh, I'll admit I don't fly often," Dean pointed out, "but don't you need that weird tunnel thing to board a plane?"

"You won't need a boarding bridge. The jet's not that big," Michael responded, following the sprayed numbers on the ground.

"We're going with a jet?" Dean asked Castiel.

"Ah! Here we go!"

In hindsight, Dean shouldn't have been that surprised that the Novaks owned a tiny airplane.

His jaw dropped at the sight in front of him. "We're going with a _private_ jet?" he spluttered.

"Of course. All the other seats on the plane were taken," Castiel said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Dean barely noticed when one of the airport officials took his suitcase to load it into the jet. Michael pulled out something small out of his pocket and tossed it to his brother.

"Hope you still remember how to use it," he teased, and from the grin Castiel shot back, Dean doubted he had forgotten.

"Wait, you know how to drive- fly this thing?" Dean asked his best friend, if not a little impressed.

"Yes, I do," Castiel replied, and Dean thought he caught a small blush.

"And you're flying us to Santa Clara?" he clarified.

"Unfortunately, I needed the pilots on the jumbo jet today," Michael answered, scrolling through his phone again. He spared one glance in Dean's direction before adding, "I'm kidding, Winchester."

"Dean." Castiel nodded towards the jet, indicating it was time to go.

"Take care of my little brother, will you?" Michael said to Dean. He gave them one last amused smile and a brief wave before taking a few steps back and picking up his phone with a friendly, "Hey, Luce."

Dean settled in the seat farthest from the window after the door closed after them. Castiel picked up a remote from one of the drawers. There was a quiet hissing sound as a tiny TV crawled open and flickered into life. Cas turned to the other and handed him the remote. "We'll be in California in three hours. There are drinks in the cabinet over there, and snacks in the one next to it. I'll be in the cockpit, and feel free to come in if you need something."

"Thanks, Cas, but I think I'll just try sleeping it through," Dean muttered, shutting the nearest window blind to him as he spoke.

Castiel smiled in return and disappeared into the cockpit. Dean could hear his voice faintly through the door, telling the tower their position and destination. In a few moments, the wheels rattled below and they started to move, Dean desperately tightening his seatbelt. He couldn't tell where the jet was going; there was no way he was looking out the window. As they made a smooth left turn, the jet rolled to a stop. Dean's breath caught in his throat, knowing the worst was about to come.

Suddenly, there was a powerful hum, and they lurched forward, a high-pitched hiss building up as they sped down the runway. Dean clutched at his armrests and clamped his eyes shut. He was pulled back into his seat, the sound of wheels working disappeared, instead taken over by a dull buzz which could only be the wind outside. Slumping into his seat, Dean tried to focus on the film in front of him. He couldn't be bothered to follow the plot, and he found his head sinking onto his chin, eyes slowly slipping closed.

* * *

Dean woke with a start when a jolt shook the jet. His first thought? _Fuck, I'm plummeting to my death._ And as the plane continued to bounce and shake, it seemed very likely. There was the sound of the wind slapping against a dull surface and wheels screeching against asphalt-

Oh, thank God, they'd only landed.

Without wasting any time, Dean started pawing at his seat belt, eager to stand up and get as far away from the damned, metal death chamber as possible. But as if he'd read his mind, Castiel's voice buzzed through the intercom.

"_We've successfully landed, Dean, but please don't touch your seat belt until we come to a full stop."_

Dean silently cursed Cas and his stupid rules, and _Sam_, while he was at it, for making him fly in the first place. He waited through several turns and stops, until the wheels rolled to a stop and the engine whirled into silence. The lights in the plane flicked off, but it was still visible enough; sunlight streamed in through the remaining windows. The door of the cockpit slid open, and Castiel emerged, hands in his pockets, a smile playing on his lips.

"I hope you've had a pleasant flight," he teased as Dean finally scrambled out of his seat.

"I can't believe you know how to fly a plane," Dean muttered. "No, wait. I _can_."

"Why? Because I'm the youngest in a snob family and always get what I want?" Castiel joked.

"Exactly," Dean returned with a laugh. "Seriously though, why?"

Castiel shrugged. "I love flying."

Dean raised an unamused eye brow. "You're insane, Cas, you know that?"

Castiel responded with his own, quiet chuckle. "Maybe I am. But I love the freedom, the control you get while flying." And even though he was smiling, there was a dejected glimmer in his eyes. "When you grow up in a society like the one in which I have, you don't get a lot of that. Most of your life is mapped out already, whether you like the plan or not."

And seriously, it was one of those times Dean really wanted to kick Cas' dad in the teeth. Dean shivered uncomfortably at the thought of Cas sitting behind a desk, leading the life of a boring tax accountant. It was what his father had wanted, and even after his impromptu retirement, it had been hell convincing Cas to go down a different path. He'd desperately wanted to stay loyal to his father, refused to believe he'd abandoned them. But when Cas had realised he wasn't coming back, that nearly destroyed him. To this day, Dean wished Mr Novak had come back, if only to see what he'd done to his sons, and so Dean could have punched him in the face. But it was better this way, he supposed, and decided not to dwell on it anymore.

"All right, Cas, let's go introduce you to my folks," Dean teased, even though the thought of Cas as his date still sent shivers into his chest, but not all that unpleasantly.

Castiel appreciated the joke, and popped the hatch of the door open.

Sunny.

That was Dean's first impression of California. And hot. Unbearably hot. Like, want-to-rip-all-your-clothes-off-and-find-the-near est-ocean hot. Because Sam always came home for holidays, Dean had only been to Santa Clara once before. It had been for Sam's graduation.

And all of a sudden, Dean's throat clenched as he realised he hadn't seen Sam in almost a year. He and Jess hadn't come to Lawrence over the summer, because they were too busy planning the wedding (and having a romantic getaway in Paris, just like in the movies). And though he tried to stop it, his knees got a little weak.

His suitcase was rolled over to him by Cas, who gave him another one of his stomach-flip-inducing smiles. He followed him back to the inside of the terminal, where he welcomed the cold air of the indoor cooling system. They passed the security check without any problems, and soon, they were standing in the middle of the waiting area, under a large, yellow sign that read, _Arrivals_.

"Where did Sam agree to meet us?" Castiel asked.

As if on cue, there was a shrill shout of, "DETECTIVE WINCHESTER!"

Dean and Cas spun around to see Jessica waving her arms and laughing, Sam at her heels. In a matter of seconds, Dean found himself being crushed by a surprisingly large force exerted by a small girl. Jess babbled nonsense as he hugged her back, lifting her off her feet.

"Oh, it's so good to see you! We've missed you so much!" she cried.

Dean turned to share a one-armed hug with his brother. By some miracle, Sam seemed to have gotten even bigger since the last time Dean saw him. He slapped the him on the back, ruffling his hair. "You have _got_ to cut that."

Sam laughed breathily and grinned down at the other. "Man, you guys, I can't believe you're here-" He added sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck, "you know, together."

For a moment, Dean's mind remained blank while he blinked from his brother to Cas.

Shit, right. They were dating. Almost forgot that.

"Yeah," Dean hummed. "I- I take it Mom told you."

"_Told_ me?" Sam chuckled as he took their suitcases and followed Jessica out to the parking lot. "She practically screeched it in my ear! "

"Why haven't you told us?" Jessica demanded. "When did it even happen?"

Fuck, Dean didn't even _think_ about that question coming up. He glanced helplessly at Castiel.

"Michael's birthday," Castiel supplied, his tone calm and controlled.

"But wait, his birthday was like, two months ago." Sam's brow furrowed. Damn his creepy, elephant memory.

Jess' jaw dropped. "_Two months?_ And you didn't think to call?"

"You were busy with the wedding. Didn't think it was the right time to bring it up," Dean explained, glad to find his brain was working again.

"Okay, but who came up to who? How'd you realise you were mad about each other since day one?" Jess insisted.

And boy, did that make his face heat up. He didn't even have to look at Cas to know he was the same shade.

"Jess, leave 'em alone. They just got here," Sam, thankfully, stepped in. He hauled their suitcases into the trunk of the car like it was nothing, then announced, "Hop in! Mom said she'll kill me if I don't bring you guys back in less than half an hour."

"Great." Although Dean felt anything but great. Christ, what had he gotten himself into? What had he gotten _Cas_ into? Seriously, if the dude could even look at him after this whole thing was done-

Dean felt a warm hand slip between his fingers, and he automatically rubbed his thumb along the back of it. Cas' hand was strangely soft against his, but that was no surprise, since Cas mostly relied on projectors and his own words to bring out the theme of his lectures. Dean's were calloused and rough, from pointing guns and necessary self-defence moments and tinkering with his Baby. It was one of those things that shouldn't fit, but did anyway.

"Ah, while we're on the subject," Sam's voice butted in. "Mom and Dad have the guest room, and uh- Will you guys be okay on the couch? It's that fancy one that spreads out, and it's huge so-"

"It's fine, Sammy. Don't worry," Dean returned.

As Jess steered the conversation towards Castiel's work, Dean spaced out as he watched palm trees zip past the window. Nine days. Just nine days. He could do that. He'd spent the same amount of time sleep-deprived and catching murderers, for Christ's sake. Pretending to be in a relationship with Cas would be a walk in the park. Nothing had changed. They were still themselves together. Just throw in some hand-holding, some hugs, maybe one kiss. Kissing Cas certainly wouldn't be bad. He'd always noticed the way his upper lip curved into a perfect Cupid's bow, and how full the lower one was-

Dean quickly decided that the thought of kissing Cas would only be allowed when he was alone, because he did _not_ like the way his jeans suddenly felt a size too small.

The ride from _San Jose International Airport_ to Sam and Jess' house in Santa Clara was all of twenty minutes. It was in a nice neighbourhood, not too crowded and completely quiet, a change Dean needed after the past few weeks. The street was shaded by trees with thick trunks and wide branches and canopies of leaves. The house itself was a plain white, but with a cheery red roof. It had a lawn in front, which was healthy and green, despite the torturous weather. There were bushes of various flowers Dean didn't even know the names of, but knew that Jess had planted them herself. A veranda encircled the front half on the house, made of worn, but welcoming oak. And on it stood his mother, grinning widely, her hands clasped over her cheeks.

Dean all but jumped out of the car when it came to a halt. Mary stood on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck as his wound to her waist.

"There you are," she teased. "It took you forever to get here."

"Twenty minutes, Mom. Hardly what I'd call forever," Sam pointed out as he hauled the luggage past them.

Jess disappeared after him, and Mary finally let go of Dean, at least enough to look at his face. "Sweetheart, I missed you," she cooed. "I'm so glad you brought Cas with you."

Castiel murmured a soft, "Hi, Mrs Winchester," as she pulled him in for a hug.

"How was your flight?" she asked him.

Castiel's eyes briefly flashed to Dean's before he answered, "Quiet."

"Dean didn't complain too much?" she made sure.

"Mom!" Dean protested. "I don't complain. Loads of people don't like flying!"

Cas hummed a chuckle. "He was perfect."

Mary beamed in response, and Dean felt as if someone lit his face on fire. He headed on into the house, and followed the sound of his father and Jess inside the kitchen.

"Dean! There you are, son," John said from his seat at the table when he heard him come in.

"Hey, Dad," Dean greeted.

John's gaze fell on Cas, and although he usually never had any problem with the Novak, he studied him hard, like he was a date Dean had brought home when he was fifteen. Which seriously made Dean uncomfortable, because he wasn't in high school anymore, and he could take perfectly good care of himself.

But Cas, always out to surprise Dean, stood his ground and offered a polite greeting to his father. John finally loosened up and nodded in return. "Castiel, how are you? How's the family?"

"Good, they're all fine. Michael came back from New York last week," he replied.

"Did he? That's good. He works too hard for someone his age," Mary called from the stove. "And how is Lucifer? Is he eating more? He was awfully skinny the last time I saw him."

"Believe me. He's fine. Balthazar's taking good care of him," Cas replied.

Mary went on, "And Gabriel? I heard he's moved from that hotel he worked at."

"He did, three months ago, I think. He's working at a restaurant now."

John watched his wife fondly as Dean settled in the seat beside him. "Look at her. As if she needs more sons," he joked and twisted in his chair. "So? You and Castiel, then? Jess tells me it's been two months now."

"Uh, yeah, but-"

Dean was interrupted by thundering down the stairs. For a moment, he thought that Sam had fallen, but was soon proved wrong when something golden zipped into the kitchen.

"Holy shit, you have a dog?" Dean laughed as Sam ran in, frowning tiredly at the golden retriever. It had gone straight for Cas and sniffed at his hands intrusively.

"Yeah, present from a friend when we got engaged," Sam answered, then added, "Down, Brady!"

"Jesus. Throw in a couple of kids and you'll be a living _Hallmark_ card," Dean teased and he found himself on the receiving end of Sam's bitch face. His eyes met Cas', and as he took in his genuine smile, he thought, maybe things _would_ turn out okay.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean woke up face first in his pillow, something incredibly heavy weighing down on his legs. A groggy protest escaped from his throat as he tried to lift one foot. There was a whine from the end of the bed, followed by the bedsheets shifting. Dean flipped over onto his back, and rolled his head to the left. A faint smile bloomed on his lips at what he saw.

Castiel was pressed up against the back of the couch, his dark locks messy from sleep (not that it looked much better when he was awake), and his eyes bleary and dazed. A tattered book was nestled in his hands. _The Hobbit_, Dean vaguely registered; the same copy he'd gotten him for his seventeenth birthday.

"What time is it?" Dean whispered hoarsely.

"Half past ten," came Cas' soft reply.

"Why are you still in bed?" Dean had learnt from many a drunken night they'd spent together that Cas rarely slept in.

"Jet lag, I suppose."

A slobbery yawn sounded from the lower end of the bed. Dean looked down Castiel's legs and saw Brady settled comfortably between his knees.

"Cas, why is the dog on the bed?" Dean groaned.

"He likes me," Castiel reasoned simply. "And I like him."

"Get him off," the other retorted.

"No."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Spoiled brat."

Castiel chuckled and shoved him lightly in the shoulder. Clicking his tongue at Brady, he coaxed him off the bed as he followed suit, kicking away the covers. The dog nudged at his legs happily, snout snuffling noisily. Cas scratched the bottom of his jaw, and played with his ears. It was strange to see Cas get on so well with animals, since he was never allowed any pets as a child, and didn't have time for one as an adult.

The Novak stretched lightly, a sliver of pale skin slipped into view as his shirt pulled up, exposing his lower back and stomach. Dean's mouth dried as he ran his gaze down lower. Cas' ass looked nice in those boxers. Slapping himself hard on the cheek (and earning a confused glance from Castiel), Dean willed away any inappropriate thoughts about his best friend. But when Castiel sauntered past with Brady at his heels, his sweatpants dipping deliciously low on his slim hips, it was really hard to think of much else.

Things would _so_ not turn out okay.

After he'd (somewhat) successfully gotten his dick to calm down after the morning's free show, Dean crawled out of bed and got dressed. Stumbling into the kitchen, he found Cas sitting at the kitchen table with Jess, Sam and Mary. From experience, he already knew that Sam and Jessica were drinking coffee, and that his mom and Cas were having tea. He received collective 'good mornings' which were far too cheerful for the time of day. He muttered a greeting in return, and reached for Castiel's mug.

Another thing Dean knew, was that Cas and him shared the same taste in food, of all things. Dean was more of a coffee guy by default, but Sam's was always too bitter. Unlike Mary, Cas drank tea with milk and the perfect amount of sugar. It was nothing new to see the two of them sharing food (or you know, drinks in this case), but there was something different in the way Mary smiled at him as he sipped on Cas' tea.

Deciding not to dwell on it, he settled his hands on Cas' shoulders, resting his head on top of the other's.

"You sleep okay on the couch?" Jess asked.

"Yeah, it was perfectly fine," Dean replied. "Except that Cas let the dog sleep with us." He grinned down at Castiel, who'd tilted his head up to look at him. He asked, "Sam, this place safe enough for a run?"

Sam nodded, swallowing his mouthful of coffee. "Yeah. Just follow the sidewalk around the block."

"Great. Thanks."

"You won't have breakfast first?" Cas asked.

"No, I'll eat somethin' when I get back," Dean assured him, and just because he'd always wanted to try it, he limply raked his fingers through Cas' hair. And holy crap, it was like _heaven_. It was thick, but soft, crisp, and curled into the tracks of Dean's fingers even after he stopped touching it. Dean had only felt Castiel's hair a handful of times (pun unintended), all of them back when they were teens. He'd done it only when he was trying to rile him up on purpose, and occasionally after too many beers and sloppy groping. But now, he was _definitely_ planning on adding 'hair-touching' on the fake-date agenda.

Outside, the weather was similar as it had been yesterday, but at least there was the shade of trees and a fresh breeze coming in every now and then. Dean hadn't gone running in forever, not with the case keeping him so damn busy. He liked running, though. It was effective at waking him up in the mornings, and soothing nerves when he was having trouble at work. The neighbourhood was cheerful, but not too busy. There were barely any cars passing, and the only sound he heard non-stop was the songs of birds. He passed a handful of joggers and people walking their dogs, even joggers running _with_ their dogs. He didn't run long, though, seeing as he didn't know the streets well enough and could have easily gotten lost. When he got back to Sam and Jess', he found the kitchen empty, save for Cas.

The Novak turned in his seat and smiled at him as he held his phone to his ear. "That's a horrible idea," he said into it. "Yes, it is. You'll get fired."

Dean raised his eyebrow inquisitively, opening the fridge and grabbing a carton of eggs.

"No, don't-" Silence. "Yes, it _is_ Dean," Castiel replied, and the Winchester looked over again at the sound of his name. A scowl appeared on Cas' face as laughter rang from the other line. He sighed, "Get back to teaching your class, Balthazar."

As he said good bye and hung up, Dean asked, "You eat yet?"

"No. I forgot," Castiel said.

"How do you forget to eat?" Dean pulled out a pan and a spatula. "Fried or scrambled?"

"I never have the time, I have to be at work early," Castiel reminded him, then added, "Neither, thanks."

"Come on, Cas, you gotta eat." The other cracked an egg on the edge of the pan. "So, fried or scrambled?"

"Dean-"

"Fine. Scrambled, then."

Castiel frowned at him, but Dean ignored him. After the yolk and egg white started to stiffen and he stirred them up, he pulled out two plates and eating utensils. The eggs were done and split two ways in two minutes.

"Eat," he ordered softly.

Cas shot him a glare, but muttered a, "Thank you," and took up his fork. When Dean sat down with his own plate, he felt Cas' feet rub against the fabric of his sweats and promptly settle in his lap. His toes poked against his stomach gently, and Dean grinned into his breakfast. Mary found them like that, giggling and tickling each other, still trying to get through their food.

Leaning against the archway, she said, "Boys, eat up and go get ready. We have to be at the Moores' by noon."

Dean looked up from Cas' feet. "Jessica's folks?" he asked, body jerking as Castiel prodded at his sides.

"Yes, they're having us over for lunch before we leave tomorrow." Mary made a gesture with her hand as if to say, _hurry up!_ then left back upstairs.

"What's tomorrow?" Dean wondered as he stuffed the remaining egg whites in his mouth.

Castiel regarded him with unimpressed distaste. "The after-party is being held at a house Jessica's great-grandfather owned. Jessica and your mother thought it would be good if we all went earlier to get it ready," he explained.

Dean hummed in acknowledgement, then jerked his chin towards Cas' plate. "Done?"

"Yes." Dean motioned for Cas to pass the plate over. "It was good. Thank you."

"Yeah, well," Dean snorted as he put the dishes into the dishwasher and kicked it closed, "besides Gabriel, I'm the only one who knows how to feed you properly." He then stuck out his thumb towards the door. "Go wash up in the bathroom first. You're quicker, and I need a shower anyways."

"You're right, if I let you go in first, I'd wait until Judgment Day," Castiel teased.

"Ha, ha, you're _hilarious_," Dean retorted, and sent him out with a slap on the ass.

* * *

They left the house a little after 11:35, crammed in two cars. Sam drove with John and Mary in his car, and Jess with Cas and Dean in hers. Mr and Mrs Moore, as it turned out, lived relatively close and they arrived at 12 on the dot.

The Moore house was small and homey. The paint on the windows and door was chipping, and there was no front yard, but from what Jess had told him, Dean knew there was a big one in the back. Mr and Mrs Moore looked younger than his own parents, both with the same blond hair Jessica had, and they smiled a lot.

"Mom, Dad, this is Dean, Sam's brother," Jessica said once the introductions came around. After the three exchanged handshakes, she continued, "And this is his boyfriend, Castiel Novak."

Dean's heart had barely gotten over the 'boyfriend' title when he noticed the small arch of Mr Moore's eyebrows at Cas' surname. A surge of protectiveness that he'd had since they were fifteen washed over him, which was ridiculous because: a) Mr Moore probably hadn't meant anything bad by it, and b) Cas had gotten used to it years ago. Nevertheless, the caution didn't waver, and if Castiel minded the arm Dean snaked around his waist later, he didn't say anything about it.

John and Sam followed Jessica's father to the grill, while the women left inside, choosing the A/C over the summer heat. Dean sat with Cas on the well-worn, woven couch on the back porch. He could see how well Sam got on with his future father-in-law. Even John seemed to be friendly with Mr Moore. Dean was glad he flew out here, glad he could witness Sam and Jess together. He could see how good they were for each other. They were so damn happy together, and he knew the two would never get out of the honeymoon phase once it came around.

"What are you thinking about?" Cas asked, although Dean had a feeling he already knew.

Dean shrugged, a half-smile on his lips. "Jus' Sammy and Jess."

"Happiness like theirs is hard to find," he agreed softly.

"I think we come pretty close, _honey_," Dean teased, to which Castiel hummed a small chuckle. The Winchester craned his neck to look at him fully. "Cas... you know I'm not gonna hold you back if you wanna go, right? The minute you feel like blowing it all off, you can."

"Yes, Dean, I know. You've told me a thousand times," Castiel replied, and it wrung out a laugh from the other. "But as _I've_ told _you_ equally as often, I'm happy to be here." He then added wryly, "Even if it is devastatingly hot."

"Trust me, it'll do you good. You need some colour," Dean quipped.

The conversation took up more familiar topics, like movies that Dean thought Cas would like, or a book the Novak had suggested to read. They shared anecdotes from work, and talked about Castiel's siblings. Moments like that, when they were completely themselves and wrapped up in each other, they never changed, and Dean liked that. Cas had never been shy or polite around him. He didn't keep his opinions to himself and nod along to everything Dean said, like he had to with Michael's snobbish, rich clients. He bit back, he challenged. He stood behind his thoughts, called Dean out on his crap and argued his point like a freaking pro, all the while sporting a charming smile and a warm glint in his piercing blue eyes.

Near the end of his story about Lucifer giving them all food poisoning that one time Gabriel had been sick, Castiel's phone sounded in his pocket. He lifted his head, which had ended up on Dean's shoulder at one point or another, and a small smile emerged when he looked over the caller ID.

"Sorry, it's Michael," he said, getting to his feet, and added in a teasing tone, "I'll be right back, _sweetheart_."

Dean rolled his shoulder and let his head loll back, as he watched Cas disappear inside the house. The sound of Sam's heavy footsteps thudding against the porch steps soon followed. Dean waved absently at his brother when he stood in front him, his gaze still fixed after Castiel.

"Dude, I wish you could see your face!" came Sam's snigger, and Dean's head whipped back to his sibling. Vaguely gesturing at his own face, Sam said, "It's all... goopy."

"Is _not!_" Dean's reply was as heated as his face, which didn't help his case all that well.

"Man, just like when you were in high school," Sam noted. "Always touchy about Cas." His eyebrows rose and his mouth formed a toothy grin like a thought had just occurred to him. "Only now it's more literal, I guess."

"Shut up, Sam," he muttered at the other's burst of laughter. "What do you want?"

Sam sighed, his chuckles dying out. "Barbecue's almost done. Dad's sending us to make the table," he informed him.

"Jesus. Like we're kids all over again," Dean grumbled, but didn't offer another refusal as he followed his brother inside.

Jessica and her mom loaded them with four plates each, and an order to make a second trip for the cutlery. The table wasn't overly big, but there was enough space so they weren't crammed together. Cas returned when the two were setting up the eating utensils and napkins.

"Spoon goes _outside_, Dean." Castiel chuckled as he followed the Winchester's tracks, switching the spoons and the knives.

"Hey, how do you know it wasn't Sammy?" Dean demanded, and got an unimpressed quirked eyebrow from Cas and a bitch-face from Sam. "Wow, okay. Rude."

As he helped him fold the napkins, Cas settled his cheek on Dean's shoulder again, his body a comfortable weight against him. At first glance, you' think Cas wasn't big on touching. With strangers or mere acquaintances, he was reserved and quiet. Furthest he'd be willing to go was a handshake. But in contrast, he was a huge cuddler (and when drunk enough, a bit of a groper too) with Dean, and especially his brothers, like a cat.

"Who was it on the phone?" Dean asked, passing the napkins to Sam.

"Michael," Castiel hummed. "He wanted to check up on me."

Dean gave an indignant squawk. "What, he suddenly doesn't trust me?"

"He hasn't trusted you since you took me to Ash's party when we were juniors," Castiel said as-a-matter-of-factly.

"What else does Michael say?" Sam asked with a grin in Dean's direction.

Castiel's head lifted slightly in his direction. "My brothers are being manageable, for now, but he wants me back soon as a reinforcement," he returned. "And he asked about you and Jessica. He sends his regards." Turning to Dean, he added, "He wanted to know if you liked his jet."

Dean scowled. "You're all a bunch of assholes, you know that?"

He would have gone on cursing the Novak name if his dad and Mr Moore hadn't come in with the meat from the grill, followed by the rest of the party carrying the salad and a whole mountain of potatoes. They were seated quickly and soon, food was everywhere and light chatter broke out. Dean, in between Cas and Sam, didn't talk much since his brother was deep in conversation with Mr Moore, which was kinda loud and distracting. He tried to initiate footsie with Cas several times due to boredom, but got kicked in the shin instead. Castiel was nothing if not painfully consistent with proper etiquette when in company.

"Dean," Mrs Moore said warmly after he'd received his fourth kick. "Sam told me you work as a police detective."

"Yeah, I do," he replied with a nod.

"That must be exciting," she offered.

Dean wanted to say that there was nothing exciting about jumping into garbage containers, but settled on a shrug and a simple, "It has its moments."

"And, what about you, Castiel?" Mr Moore, seemingly finished with his previous conversation, asked.

"I teach early European history at _Kansas University_," Castiel murmured politely, and Mr Moore nodded in understanding.

"How did you two meet?" Mrs Moore wondered as she looked between them, a sweet smile on her face.

"High school. We went to the same class," Castiel answered, and a grin tugged at Dean's lips as he spoke.

"And you've been dating ever since?" she cried.

Oh. Awkward. "Uh, no, we just started couple 'a months ago," Dean responded.

"It's crazy that it took them so long, because they were all over each other even before," Sam supplied, and Dean never had such a strong urge to kick him.

"We were not," he insisted.

"Yes, you were," John of all people piped up. Dean's jaw slackened.

"They were inseparable, always at our house or at the Novaks'," Mary told Mrs Moore.

"It was like they had a secret relationship everyone had an inkling about, but didn't know for sure." And that time, Dean really did kick Sam.

Ignoring Sam's bitch face, he looked over at Cas apologetically. Why his family had to be this embarrassing was beyond him, but the other simply tilted his head amusingly, and offered a small, crooked smile.

"Once, they came back home way after curfew, clothes and hair a mess and the car keys in hand. To this day, no one has any idea what happened that night," John said, raising a pointed eyebrow at his eldest son. "But I washed the inside of the car the next day just in case."

"Oh, for the love of-!"


	6. Chapter 6

He was woken up at the ungodly hour of seven in the morning. Dean had to hand it to his family for having Castiel be the one to wake him. Not only could Dean never say no to him (it was the damn, blue gaze), but Cas also had this voice he often used in lectures; it was gentle, but still as demanding and serious as if he'd snapped an order.

"It's not like the house is gonna go anywhere," Dean grumbled as his feet settled on the warm, wooden floor. "Why do we have to get up so early?"

"Because waking you is an hour-long challenge itself," Castiel replied without missing a beat. He scrunched up the worn _Metallica_ shirt, and seeing as Dean was too lazy to do it himself, tugged it over his head. After he'd pulled his arms through and righted it down to his stomach, he ran his hands through the blond's hair a few times in order to calm it down.

Dean flashed a sleepy, lopsided grin. "Damn, Cas. Do that once more and I might just fall asleep again."

Castiel scoffed at him good-naturedly and pulled him to his feet. "You won't have time for your run, but I'll get your coffee ready. You don't need help with your jeans?"

"You're an angel, I swear," Dean returned.

"I hope that's in reference to the coffee."

It turned out that getting him up early wasn't without reason- took another hour for everyone to actually wake up properly and settle down for breakfast. Mary was setting out toast like nobody's business, while everyone else kind of fought for the butter.

Once Dean finished covering his two slices with a layer of butter and a thick blanket of strawberry jam (he made sure to pick out the chunks), he slid it over to Castiel. "Here you go, _baby_. Eat," he told him. Though he meant it as a friendly jibe, Sam obviously took the term as a type of endearment.

"You guys are _adorable_," he teased.

"Shut it, bitch," Dean bit back.

"Not until you stop being a sap, jerk."

Smiling, Castiel thanked him and started nibbling on the toast, and until his mother popped out a new batch of bread, Dean turned back to his coffee, taking a deep whiff of it. Cas always made coffee just the way he liked it, even though he never drank it himself because he was strictly a tea guy (Dean had tried to get him acquired with the taste when they were sophomores, but he never got the hang of it).

Jessica appeared from the hall, in the middle of pocketing her phone. She sat down beside Sam and picked up the toast she had discarded when her mother had called her. "Mom says they're on their way. Should be here in half an hour."

John muttered silently to himself as Mary put out a new round of toast. "What are you doing, honey?" Mary asked him, nudging Dean to take some bread (he didn't need telling twice).

"Crossword puzzle," John replied, his eyes not leaving the newspaper. "Philippines... capital- Hey, what's the capital of the Philippines?"

"Manila," Castiel answered instantly.

"Spelling?"

"M-A-N-I-L-A."

"Thanks." A pause before, "An Australian animal?"

"How many letters?" Sam asked.

"Nine," John replied, counting on his fingers. "It isn't kangaroo."

"Platypus? Koala?" Jess tried.

"Both too short."

"Koala _bear_," Sam offered.

They waited as John counted over the boxes. "Yep, koala bear fits."

It didn't take long until everyone was finished, the dishes (hastily) washed and suitcases taken outside. They piled most of the baggage into Sam's car, since Brady's travel crate would be taking up a lot of the Moores' station wagon. So Dean and Castiel piled in with Jess and Sam, while Mary and John drove with the Moores. Sam opted to let Mr Moore drive first, having no clue where the house actually was.

The ride itself was short and relatively quiet; Jessica pouring over her wedding planner, adding something to Sam every now and then, Castiel reading his book, his feet propped up in Dean's lap, and Dean himself dosing off again. An hour's worth of sleep later, he was being kicked awake.

"Wha-?" he demanded in a slur. "Fuck off, Cas."

But Castiel was having none of his shit. "Dean, get up. We're here."

Cracking one eye open, Dean glared at his best friend-slash-fake-boyfriend. Castiel stared right back, doing that thing where he stared into Dean's soul through his eyes. It had been unnerving and weird at first, but Dean had gotten used to it. Besides, Cas had nice eyes. If Dean had to stare at them for a not-quite-completely-platonic amount of time, he had no complaints.

After the brief staring match Castiel had inevitably won, they hauled their asses outside and helped the rest with the luggage.

"How d'you even read, anyway? Don't normal people get carsick?" Dean asked, setting down Sam's suitcase and Brady's bag.

"When you spend an entire childhood of car rides with three brothers bickering non-stop, you learn to force the nausea down and distract yourself with a book," Castiel responded.

Dean suppressed a shudder at the thought of being stuck in a confined space with the Novaks, and shut the trunk of the Jeep. Behind them, the gravelly ground lead away through a large gate, onto a dirt road and into the thick forest.

Gravel crunching against his shoes as Dean turned around on his heel, his jaw dropped and eyebrows raised in surprise at the freaking _estate_ a mere fifteen metres away from him. All around it stretched a giant garden, the grass uneven and empty save for a few stony, moss-covered benches, separated from the surrounding, dense trees by a crumbling, deep red, brick wall. The house itself was in federal style, with painted wood siding, but it was covered in so many vines and moss it was more a bright green than the original chalk-grey. The leaves and woody limbs draped the entire left wing like a blanket, trickling over the window panes and swaying in the breeze. The vines had apparently been trimmed some time ago, because they framed the glass in jagged, uneven curtains. The only thing that was clear of greenery was the hipped charcoal roof, with two chimneys towering from either side.

Luggage was left in the entrance hall as Mr Moore gave a quick tour of the first floor. There were two giant, white archways; one to their left, leading into a sitting room, complete with a sleek black grand piano, and the other to their right, leading into the library (Sam was practically drooling at the sight). Across the front, french double doors was another arch opening into the dining hall. It was a bright, square room, equipped with a heavy, mahogany table, pale blue walls and a huge bow window. Left was a short, narrow passage which hid the cosy, tiled kitchen and the pantry.

They then brought the bags up the platform staircase beside the dining room entrance. The stairs joined to a small interior balcony that stretched into a long hall, panelled with a row of doors.

"The middle one's for Jess and Sam." Mrs Moore pointed to the aforementioned door. "The four of us will take the left bedrooms," she added on, referring to Dean's parents, Mr Moore, and herself. Then she turned to Dean. "And you guys can take the one on the far right. The other one's got a mould problem."

Dean's mind back-pedalled. Sharing a room with Cas. Right. Fuck, he had to stop losing track of this stuff.

It shouldn't have been weird. They'd slept in the same room lots of times before. Hell, they'd slept in the same _bed_, and a bath tub once when they were sixteen, something which Dean was definitely not hoping for a repeat of. Castiel had been warm and comfortable to sleep against, but his back still hadn't forgiven him for that escapade.

Point was, it was a regular occurrence. It _should not_ have been weird. And yet, it was.

As he lugged his suitcases to the end of the hall, Dean reasoned it was because the whole 'relationship' of it all. What with having their own room, people would be expecting them to do _stuff. _Stuff that Dean had done with Cas only once, and turned out to be the weirdest, most realistic wet dream ever, which he never spoke about again.

He didn't even notice Castiel had sidestepped him and left his bag beside the door, until he dropped backwards and sunk into the bare mattress. With a soft sigh, he stretched like a cat, his shirt curling up to reveal the low cut of his shorts and his pale hips. Dean smiled and crossed the room to join him on the bed. His head was propped up on his hand, elbow scratching against the itchy fabric.

Face towering over Cas', he asked, "Enjoying yourself?"

"I appreciate a comfortable bed when I'm given one, and _this_-" He rolled his head back to emphasise, his throat on display. "-is a comfortable bed."

Dean watched him passively for a moment before beginning, "Cas-"

"If you bring up leaving one more time, I _will_ punch you in the face."

The other chuckled and held up his free arm in defence. "I was just gonna say, I can see your boxers." And without warning, his fingers nimbly swept down the place the Novak was most ticklish; the trail of hair leading from Cas' bellybutton into his shorts.

Castiel yelped and doubled over, his arms wrapped around his lower abdomen protectively, but Dean settled his knees on either side of his body and attempted to unclamp his hands from his shirt. "No! Dean-! Don't do- Ah- Don't do that! Get- Off!"

Dean's hands kept prodding and pinching at his stomach and sides despite his efforts, his chuckles mingled with Cas' choked laughter and angry hissing. The Novak got ahold of his wrists and started tugging them away from him, but it only made Dean put more of his weight on Cas' body.

The noise was suddenly cut off by a knock and the sound of Sam's voice as the door opened. "Dean, Mom wants us to-" His face turned a violent shade of red when he raised his eyes.

Dean was instantly very aware of his hands in Cas', his knees brushing against his ass, and the fact that he was _sitting_ on him. He rose on his knees to let Castiel crawl away from underneath, earning a kick to his thigh in the process. "What was that, Sam?" he awkwardly asked his brother, rubbing his neck.

"Mom said to clean up the garden," his brother replied. Sam tried to look anywhere but at Dean.

"Right. Okay." Dean glanced at Cas one more time, and absently licked his lip before standing.

* * *

The smell of freshly cut grass wafted in Dean's nostrils as he leaned against the lawnmower handle and wiped the sweat of his forehead. He glared at the blazing sun, and then at Sam. "You fucking suck, man."

"Hey, you're the one who went off to grope Cas instead of sticking around to listen to Mom," Sam mumbled from his spot on the ground, then looked over the remaining square of grass they still had to pass. "Would've started sooner."

"I wasn't groping him!" Dean exclaimed as he pushed the lawnmower further.

"Whatever."

Dean scowled at him again. "What are you doing, anyway?"

"I'm admiring the view," his brother deadpanned with a nod towards the stone bench. "What does it look like? I'm getting rid of the moss."

The elder Winchester stopped the lawnmower beside Sam's kneeling form and tipped over his carton of baking soda.

"_Dean!"_

Dean returned a huffed laugh and pushed on as Sam muttered swears under his breath. "Anyway, what were you saying?"

Sam sighed in annoyance before answering, "We've got the dance lesson on Thursday."

"Fine."

"You and Cas are coming."

"Whoa, not fine!" Dean's head snapped back.

"Mom wants you to go. I was gonna take your side..." He glanced at the spilt baking soda. "Now I don't think I will."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Dean prompted with one hand. "All right, dance lessons. What's after that?"

"The bachelor party, on Friday-"

"Sweet."

"Sure. And then it's the wedding rehearsal on Saturday."

As he turned the lawnmower around, Dean asked, "Who's comin'?"

"From the people you know?" Sam clarified. "Uh, Garth and Ash- they're coming earlier for the bachelor's, though- then Bobby, Jody, Charlie, and Ellen and Jo." When Dean grimaced a little, he asked, "Why the face?"

"Jo was always kinda weird about Cas," Dean explained.

"That's 'cause she had a massive crush on you, but you were too busy being all over _Cas_ to notice," Sam explained, and Dean decided to ignore the unspoken, _Dumb-ass._ "But she's over it. I'm sure it'll be fine. I'd be more worried about Ellen. Or God, Charlie. She'll freak out."

"What, why?" Dean asked defensively.

"Well, Ellen always talked about it with Mom, how you guys were so close, but never dated," Sam spoke as if he was talking about the weather. "And Charlie's been analysing your relationship since she noticed all the sexual tension."

"We don't have sexual tension!" Dean hissed.

Sam raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"So that's what my family's been talking about for the past fourteen years? My non-existent romantic relationship with my best friend?"

"Dude, it's not our fault you're emotionally stunted and couldn't see it till now."

Dean almost told him. He almost _screamed_ it at him. There was no romantic feelings between him and Cas. There was no damn tension, no relationship, nothing remotely sexual. Castiel was his best friend. Not boyfriend. _Best friend_.

But something deep in the smallest corner of his mind stopped his tongue from forming words. His mouth hung loosely, opening and closing like a stunned fish. It was as if someone painted the inside of his head white, and then, an explosion. His brain rattled off every single moment when he and Castiel stood just a little too close, stared just a little too long, the choking, out-of-breath laughs and the heated arguments, the simple touches on the arm and thigh and lower back when they talked. It all came crashing down on him like a breaking dam, like a supernova collapsing in on itself. And it scared the living shit out of him.


	7. Chapter 7

On Thursday, Dean got up earlier to paint over one of the chipping walls in the entrance hall. He was alone when he woke, which didn't surprise him at all. Cas had always had a knack for slipping away without being heard. The only other people who were up were Mary and Mrs Moore, who pointed him in the direction of the supplies he needed. It was only after the second time he passed the stairs that he heard it.

Music; piano keys.

A grin crept onto his face. Cas had found the grand piano in the sitting room.

It didn't sound as clear and fluent as the one the Novak had at home (a big, expensive one with a fancy name to match; it was probably the only thing Castiel had ever spent such a ridiculous sum of money on), but Dean supposed it was because this one was rarely used. Nevertheless, it sounded beautiful. Dean was never one for classical music, his knowledge didn't go past Mozart and Beethoven, but somehow when it was Cas, it just automatically became interesting. Not only because he played scarily good, but also because of the way he moved. He played softly, but emotionally, his fingers moved like they were dancing on water. For something he considered brain-numbingly boring, Dean could sit and watch Cas play all day.

He scarcely recognised the tunes coming from next-door as he set the plastic cover over the panelled floor and opened up the bucket of cream paint. The job was boring, but soothing, there was something so _normal_ about it. It made Dean feel strangely domestic, like his life didn't revolve around catching killers.

After some twenty minutes, he was done with the lower part of the wall, and was scaling the step-ladder just as the music faded into silence. Dean didn't have to turn around to know Cas would be standing beside him minutes later.

"That was nice," Dean commented quietly. "The last bit. _Moonlight Sonata_?"

He could hear the smile in Cas' voice. "Yes. How did you know?"

Dean snorted. "You've been playing that one since I've known you, man."

"It's my favourite. Michael taught me how to play it, when he found the time," he spoke fondly.

It was times like these that Dean understood why he and Castiel got on so perfectly. Family was something they both cared most for, the one thing they fiercely protected. And even if they weren't related by blood, Dean considered Cas family. Which was exactly why he hadn't brought up his conversation with Sam to him.

To be honest, the whole thing still made Dean's head spin. Part of him believed Cas was the way he was because, let's be fair, dude didn't have too many close friends to begin with. He never let anyone get close to him after his father had left, and those who did were incredibly dear to him. Which was why his and Dean's relationship could be easily mistaken for an intimate one- that's just the way Cas treated him.

But as for Dean himself, he didn't really have an excuse. He decided to listen to Sam for once and face the fact that he'd fallen in love with his best friend without realising it. Gold star for you, Winchester. Gold star.

But the other part of his brain, the one that was thankfully functioning enough to figure the whole damn thing out, that part wanted to believe there was something else there, something that reciprocated Dean's fucked up feelings.

But it was still not enough to convince him to talk to Castiel about it. Because there were two very different ways it could play out.

Either by some miracle, Cas felt the same way for Dean, and they made this whole plan a reality and had tons of sex to make up for lost time.

Or, he didn't. And everything turned weird. Fifteen years of epic friendship down the drain. That was something Dean couldn't risk.

So he kept his mouth shut. Because he was a chicken. Which in itself was ridiculous; he was a police detective. He had stared down the barrel of a gun. He had broken and bruised several limbs. He had jumped freaking _rooftops_. None of that shit scared him.

But this, right here? The possibility of losing Castiel as a friend? That fucking terrified him more than any of that stuff could ever had.

"So, uh," Dean mumbled, dying to change the subject and stop the uncomfortable pain in his chest, "that other stuff you played, what was it?"

Castiel, knowing full well Dean didn't give two fucks about classical music, saw through his bleak charade, of course. But thankfully, he played along, albeit with a dubious tone. "The first was Mozart's _Alla Turca, _then Vivaldi's _Spring,_ the first movement, and then various parts from _The Nutcracker_. You missed a spot there."

"Thanks." Dean coated the part of wall Castiel had pointed out with some more paint. "You eaten anything?"

"Yes, but you haven't."

"Hey, no turning tables, man. _I'm_ supposed to be looking out for _you_."

"Why? Because I'm weak and defenceless, and you're trained in fighting? You sound like my brothers," Castiel's voice suddenly turned sharp, and it sent unpleasant shivers down Dean's back.

The Winchester looked over his shoulder, frowning at his best friend. He dropped the paint brush back into the can and took a seat on the step ladder to look at Castiel fully. His face was flushed with disbelief, as if he was surprised he had raised his voice.

"Cas, what's wrong?" Dean asked gently, fully aware that only something really bad would have riled Castiel up like that. "I was kidding, you know I didn't mean it."

"I know," his tone was soft again. "It's just... I'm not a child anymore. I can tell apart what's right and what's wrong. I don't need to be coddled, and yet that's all my family does."

"Cas, trust me when I say that I know you're tougher than you look." Dean grinned at him while he rubbed a spot on Castiel's forearm with his thumb, something he knew would soothe him easily.

"But it's not just that, Dean. I'm tired of people looking out for me, and then refusing the same courtesy in return." Even though he used the term loosely, Dean guessed that by 'people', Cas meant him. "I just want to help, but I'm always pushed away."

"You help, Cas," Dean murmured, bitterly thinking back to three months ago. "You help a lot more than you know."

Dean looked up from Castiel's forearm, their eyes meeting halfway, and they held each other's gaze for a while. It wasn't like their usual stares; green burning into blue, sparking with hidden smirks, daring the other to look away first. This time it was different. The warmth in Cas' eyes was reassuring, the smile in them as clear as if it was on his lips. It wasn't a pointless game, or an excuse to blatantly stare at every single detail on the other's face. It was for comfort, to show the compassion they had shared since they were teens.

But whatever moment the two were having was smashed by Sam's heavy footsteps on the stairs. Dean pulled back his hand like he'd been burned, and Castiel took a step back from the step ladder. Sam however, being the smart cookie he was, frowned as he looked between them, and cleared his throat.

"Uh, the dance lesson's at eleven, so we need to be ready by ten," he told them.

"What time is it now?" Dean asked while he added a final white blanket over the leftover stretch of wall.

"Eight thirty? Around that time," Sam managed through a yawn. "Come on, let's go eat. Jess is gonna make waffles."

* * *

For some obscure reason, the fact that he didn't know how to dance hadn't occurred to Dean earlier. Not while he was eating, not when they shuffled into the car, not even during the ride there. No, it dawned upon him when Sam shook hands with the dance instructor.

"I can't dance," he suddenly stated to no one in particular. Castiel looked away from Sam's general direction and glanced over his shoulder at Dean.

"That isn't true," he said with an amused smile. "I've seen you dance before."

"Yeah, when I was wasted, maybe," Dean replied. "Doubt that counts as dancing, though."

The instructor turned on the stereo, and surprise, surprise, it was the classical stuff. Which meant this would be fancy dancing.

Dean couldn't do this.

Castiel's interest was caught by the music for a brief moment, his head turning slightly in the direction of the stereo. He seemed to recognise the piece, because a ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. After seeing that the instructor was too busy helping Sam and Jessica, his gaze fell back on Dean and he took a step closer to him.

"Give me your hand," he said, his palm outstretched towards the other. Dean tentatively reached out, watching him in wary confusion, and Cas instantly pulled their linked fingers up a little higher, so they were just below shoulder-level, but sharply bent at the elbow. "Put your other one on my shoulder."

"Dude, no way. I'm not being the chick in this relationship."

Castiel scowled at him. "Don't be narrow-minded. Unless you'd prefer to lead?"

Dean scoffed, but did as he was told. Cas' other arm came to the Winchester's hip, making him jump back a little when the fabric of his shirt tickled him.

"It isn't hard to catch up on, it's just a waltz," Castiel explained. "You count to three with each step, with emphasis on the first one."

"Dude, I still can't believe you actually know how to dance."

Cas returned an unamused hum while he poked around at the Winchester's feet to get them moving. "You're generally dancing in a square. When I move my outer foot forward, you move the same foot backwards, then step to the side. Afterwards, _you_ move forward first, and _I_ follow. We keep switching like that. You understand?"

"Not even a little."

Castiel sighed, but there was chuckle hidden behind it. "We'll go slowly, and you'll catch on."

There was no point in arguing, so Dean simply nodded and tried to follow what Cas was doing. He had to be kicked a few times to be reminded it was his turn to step in, but Cas kept counting in a soft murmur, so at least he didn't have trouble staying in rhythm.

"Anna and Balthazar have been keeping me updated on the summer courses," Castiel said, while Dean was focusing on using the right foot at the right time.

"Yeah? How's it going?" Dean asked.

"Balthazar keeps sneaking Lucifer in to visit him during the breaks. I would find it endearing if I didn't know they were being more inappropriate than the students," he replied as he made them twist around to the left. "Anna says there's only a few people during the day, so she's mostly with Samandriel and Inias in the staffroom."

"English and US History, right?" Dean asked, referring to the subjects Cas' colleagues taught.

"Yes. They talk about my students, apparently. She says they're terrible." Dean didn't have to look at him to know there was a frown on Cas' face. "But I don't understand. They're usually perfectly behaved."

Dean snorted. "That's because you're the Indiana Jones of _KU_."

"Last time I checked, I don't moonlight as an adventurer," Castiel answered with a smile. "If I did, that would make you my dangerously beautiful female side-kick."

Dean shrugged. "As long as it's not the Nazi chick, I can deal. Those girls kick ass."

"So which one, Marion, or Willie?" Castiel asked, stepping left again. "I would say Willie, because of the blond hair, and wonderful singing."

Dean grimaced. "No way. Marion. Definitely Marion."

Castiel cocked an eyebrow. "Any particular reason?"

Well, one; she got to screw Dr Jones. But Dean wisely avoided that answer, and went with, " 'Cause she takes none of Indy's shit."

"Really? I find that Jones is much more tolerant when it comes to _her_ mischief," he said with a cool smile and a pointed look.

They moved on to an analysis of each film, Dean's favourite being _Raiders_ while Cas opted for _The Last Crusade_, because of the historical context, and Sean Connery. They did, however, settle on the fourth installment being the weakest, although Castiel noted he liked Cate Blanchett's performance.

"It's cause of the Russian thing, isn't it?" Dean teased. "Don't deny it, you have a thing for Russians."

"I admire their literary and musical heritage, yes," Castiel answered.

"Don't try to confuse me with your big words. That only worked when I was fifteen."

The lesson went on, and Dean was surprised that something so uninteresting to him turned out to be kind of fun. Cas had that annoying power over him; he could turn anything boring into something interesting without much effort. Dean would probably have fun watching paint dry, as long as Cas was with him. They talked while they danced, about unimportant, day-to-day stuff, and Dean loved it. Talking with Castiel meant he was being himself, relaxed and carefree, not giving a second thought to work or bills or anything like that.

An hour went by without him even noticing. He and Cas had been deep in conversation about Vonnegut's _Slaughterhouse-Five_ when Castiel noted the end of the music and brought them to a stop. Dean, stopping mid-sentence, looked up at him with a grin.

"What, no dip?" he teased.

Castiel's face, for the most part, imitated a tomato as he frowned. "I can't, you don't know the proper stance. You could get hurt."

"Yeah, or you don't know how to."

Cas' expression was unreadable one minute. Then the next, his hand zipped from Dean's waist, curled around his back and with his weight, he forced him to tilt backwards. Dean yelped at the sudden change, gripping at Cas' shoulder violently enough to bruise.

"Jesus- _Cas!_"

The Novak watched him with a small, genuine smile, and only then did Dean realise the proximity their faces were at. This? Yeah, _this_ was kissing distance.

Fuck, Cas' eyes were even bluer when they were inches away from his face. Dean could actually see the angled curves of his cheekbones and lips this close. He could see his damn _stubble_ already peaking. For a brief moment, he thought, _Why not?_, instantly followed by red lights and alarms blaring in his mind, screaming, _You _know _why not, idiot!_

Luckily- or maybe unluckily, Dean wasn't sure- Jess butted in. "You two lovebirds done? We wanna get some lunch!"

Castiel pulled Dean back up, and there was some brief chest-to-chest brushing, during which the Winchester may or may not have thought about how good Cas smelled.

"You- have you been stealing my shampoo?" he asked, noting the familiar smell of apple.

"Body wash, actually," Castiel countered. "I ran out."

Dean almost got a hard-on then and there. "Huh," was all he could muster, trying to think of something, _anything,_ other than Cas in a shower. And himself possibly with him.

God fucking damn it.


	8. Chapter 8

"You put the beer in the trunk?"

"No, thought you did."

Sam all but skidded to a stop, earning several honks and swears. "Dean!"

"I'm kidding, Sammy!" Dean chuckled as his brother put his foot to the pedal again. "Chill, man. No use being a bitch at your own bachelor party."

"It's not a bachelor party," Sam insisted.

"Fine. Friendly BBQ and beer at Steve's River, whatever."

"Steven's Creek," came Sam and Cas' collective response, to which Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam's phone rang from his pocket, and once he fished it out, he handed it to Dean. "Can you get that?"

Dean nodded before picking up. "Yeah, Sam's phone."

"_Hey, Dean. We're ready and waiting down front. How soon are you getting here?"_

"We're- how far away are we?" he asked his brother.

"There in two minutes," Sam said.

"Heard that?"

"_Got it, chief. We'll see you."_

"When did they fly in?" Castiel asked while Dean hung up.

"Yesterday afternoon. I told them they didn't have to come earlier just for this, but they wouldn't listen," Sam explained.

Dean spotted them easily the minute the car rolled down the hotel's street. Mullet soaring impressively while he jumped, Ash heartily waved around both arms, while Garth smiled broadly under his bucket hat and ridiculously large Aviators. Congratulations were exchanged noisily as the two piled into the backseat, and Ash slapped a friendly hand on Dean's shoulder, unsubtly waggling his eyebrows in Cas' direction, because of _course_ Mary had told Ellen by this time, which meant every other wedding guest heard too. Dean's grin didn't quite reach his eyes all the way, as he steeled himself for the inevitable innuendos and questions that would follow. He caught Cas' eye, and earned a soft smile in return. At least he wasn't alone.

* * *

The ride from the hotel to Steven's Creek Reservoir lasted all but fifteen minutes, during which Dean endured more teasing than he ever had in his lifetime. He thanked his lucky stars he was the older brother, and didn't have to deal with another sibling's terror growing up. Ash and Garth each took up one of the cool boxes with the beer and followed Sam to the picnic area, leaving Dean and Cas to bring up the rear. The two stayed in step easily, close enough to see Sam ahead, but far enough to talk in private.

"Sorry you had to go through that," Dean said with an inward wince. "I didn't think they'd be that bad, I expected most of the teasing to come from Ellen or Jo."

Castiel smiled at the ground as he kicked a small stone to the side. "Believe me when I say I've had worse."

"Man, your brothers suck," the other responded, grinning. "What they tease you about?"

"Everything. Hobbies, social ineptitude, people I was interested in." There was that happy smile on his face, the one he always wore when he talked about his brothers' shenanigans. "They do it even now."

Dean's interest perked, and his stomach squirmed uncomfortably at the thought of Cas dating some dude or Cas dating, _period_. He asked, sounding as unbothered as possible, "They still ask you about guys you're into, then?"

An amused hum in response, followed by a flash of piercing blue briefly zapping in his direction. "For that, I would actually have to go out and meet someone," Castiel pointed out. "Something I don't see a reason in. I'm content with the company I keep."

Dean couldn't deny the possessive satisfaction that came with Cas' reply. "No one at work, either?" he asked.

"Balthazar is taken, but not my type anyway, Samandriel and Inias are straight, and Uriel scares me," Castiel explained, suppressing a shudder at the mention of the Theology professor. "I'd consider Anna, if it weren't for the obvious reasons."

If Cas had any wonders about Dean's (nonexistent) love life, he didn't mention it, something Dean was grateful for. Cas was the only one who understood that he didn't want to talk about it, because he had gone through the same. Neither one of them were the type to ask for help, whether out of pride or a need to prove they could push past the problems. It was fucked up, Dean knew it, but for him, just the wordless comfort they provided each other with was more than enough.

Up front, Sam had finally come to a stop, and introductions were made. Almost all of Sam's friends were from Stanford, most of them around his age, some three or four years below Dean, and a small few a little closer. Overall though, it wasn't a crowd Dean willingly stuck with, so he opted to linger with Cas and Ash and Garth. As some of the other guys set up the barbecue, the four of them settled around one of the picnic tables overlooking the dam.

"Man, it's weird that you guys only got together now," Garth noted with his good-natured smile. "So all those times when you guys were meeting up for _study sessions_... you weren't...?"

"No, we were actually studying," Castiel confirmed.

"You two got into heaps of weird shit back in high school," Ash insisted. "Like that time Dean stuck his hand down your pants, or when you guys fell asleep in a tree."

"Ash, the tree was you and Meg Masters. She punched you in the face after that," Dean reminded him.

"Oh. Right. But the pants thing was you guys."

Dean frowned. "I never did that!" he replied heatedly.

"You did, I remember," Castiel told him. "It was the party Ash had after winter finals when we were seniors. You were drunk, but you insisted on driving us to burgers. I took your keys so you wouldn't go by yourself if I lost you."

"And you stuffed them in your underwear?" Dean asked with a chuckle.

"They were in my back pocket, you simply decided to grope me," he returned, his usual impassive mask on display.

Dean grinned back. "Hey, birds of a feather, buddy. You get handsy too, when you're drunk enough."

Castiel scowled at the Winchester, but collective chuckles sounded from Ash and Garth. The latter turned to Cas, and with a nod to Dean's direction, went on, "Okay, but what about all the detentions you bailed him out of? How did you pull it off so many times?"

"I learned from my brothers. They had all kinds of excuses for getting each other out," Castiel answered. "The one with Dean's aunt in the hospital was based off a lie Lucifer told about our grandmother breaking a hip. The gas leak was after Gabriel's oven story."

Dean huffed a snort into his beer bottle. "My favourite was the branch that fell through my window. No one was home to fix it, and you were worried someone might break in."

"We had finals the following week, and you were supposed to come over to study. I was desperate," Castiel countered.

In the corner of his eye, Dean saw Sam crossing the dry-grassed field in five long strides. He twisted in his seat, shielding his eyes from the sun as his brother stopped short in front of him, arms crossed over his chest and foot tapping anxiously against the ground. "What's up, Sam?" Dean asked.

"One of the guys has to go to town for extra supplies, but his car isn't starting up. You think you could take a look at it?" Sam said. After Dean got to his feet and the two set out to the parking lot, he continued, "He's taking my car for now, but he's pretty attached to his Jeep, doesn't really trust just anyone with it."

Certainly one to understand a man's love for his car, Dean nodded towards the black four-wheeler at the end of the lot. "That it?"

"Yeah. Says he's got stuff in the back, gave me keys so you can look around."

Once the Jeep was unlocked and the hood propped up, Dean did a little poking around to determine the problem. After a thorough check-up of the engine, he turned back to his brother. "Yeah, the battery's dead."

Sam sucked in a breath. "That doesn't sound good."

"Doesn't have to be a shit scenario, could just be a corrosion problem," Dean explained. "But first I think we should jumpstart the car, see if that helps."

"If it doesn't?"

"From what I saw, dude's gonna need a new battery soon, anyway. Now it's just a matter of finding out if he'll drive the thing to the mechanic's, or tow it."

From there, Sam got another friend to park his truck next to the Jeep, then Dean got to work. He took two jumper wires from the back of the Jeep, and attached the red cable to the positive terminal of the dead battery, and the black to a small bolt end on the opposite side. Sam took care of the other battery, clamping the jumper wires on either ends, with the red cable on the positive terminal and black on the negative.

"Okay, go start up the truck," Dean ordered his brother, wiping the sweat from his chin.

Sam nodded, and slid behind the wheel while the other joined him beside the open door. The truck noisily rattled to life, the open hood tinkled softly as it jittered. They left it like that to charge for a few minutes, making pointless smalltalk, which mostly consisted of Dean complaining about being hungry. He realised how much he had missed Sam's company, their harmless banters and prank wars, and the rare heart-to-heart moments. But California was good for Sam. He had Jess and friends and good work, even the constant sun seemed to agree with him. Dean just hoped that, once the job really took off (which, knowing Sam, definitely would), his little brother could spare more trips and visits home.

It was just as Dean settled into the Jeep that its worried owner returned. Dean gave him a quick update on what they'd been up to, but didn't give any clear answer until the key had been turned and the engine, hopefully, back in business. And luckily, a second after Dean had flicked on the ignition, the Jeep's engine roared like an animal.

"That's all then, car's good to go," he said once he was outside again, between Sam and his friend. "You should still take it to a mechanic's, though, clean up corrosion if there's any. Check the strength of your battery, too. I think you need a new one."

Dude seemed relieved and happy enough with the answer, so Dean counted it as a win, and along with Sam, helped getting the supplies from the store back to the picnic area. Upon arriving, he took note of the empty table he had previously sat at, and scanned the place for any sign of his group. Ash and Garth were easy enough to find; their instincts pulled them away to the grill, the source of the sweet-smelling, sizzling patties, which Dean was glad to hear would be ready in five minutes, tops. Meanwhile, he spotted Cas by the bank of the reservoir, chatting away with some dude who immediately gave Dean the heebie-jeebies.

"Hey, Sam." Dean nudged his brother with his elbow, and jerked his chin. "Who's that guy?"

"With Cas? That's Mark," Sam supplied, then stuttered, "I, uh, I think you should go get him, though. Mark looks a little overly friendly, and he's, ah, on your team."

And yes, thank you, Sam, that much was obvious. Mark, towering over Castiel a few good inches, was leaning in way too close, and smirking like he was God's gift to women. Or men, whatever. It made Dean's blood boil. With a muttered excuse to Sam, he paced across the grounds, jaw set and scowl in place. Without a second thought, he looped an arm around Cas' shoulders, effectively stopping whatever stupid story Mark was in the middle of.

Castiel jumped slightly at the sudden contact, and the smile his lips bloomed into when he realised it was Dean almost made the Winchester's heart melt. "Hey. I'm back," he announced the obvious as he glanced at Mark from the corner of his eye. Dude seemed torn between looking indignant and surprised. Good.

"Oh, good, it wasn't a serious problem, then?" Cas asked.

"Nah, dead battery. Needed a jumpstart is all," he answered. "You okay?"

"Yes, Dean, this is Mark." Castiel offered the other man a polite smile. "Mark, this is Dean, my boyfriend."

And damn, did that title make Dean's heart stumble happily. He gave Mark a curt, "Hi," and he looked at him pointedly to show him that yeah, he _did_ know the dude had been hitting on Cas a short second ago.

Mark nodded coldly in return. "Castiel tells me he teaches European history at university. I was just saying how my father personally knows some of the historians at _Brown_."

"That's nice," he said with a smile, but what he really wanted to say was, "How about you and your dad shove it, Mark." And Dean wanted to laugh because obviously, Mark thought that would charm the pants off of Cas. Cas, who could easily have Michael set up a meeting with guys from fucking _Princeton_ if he wanted to. Dean turned to the Novak again. "Just wanted to let you know the food's almost done, baby."

Then, as always, Dean decided to think with his dick, because his brain cells were fried from hunger and Mark's irritating self and Cas' fucking _This is Dean, my boyfriend_. He flexed the arm around Castiel's shoulder, pulled him in with the crook in his elbow and smashed their mouths together.

Cas' breath hitched, Dean felt it, just like he felt his entire body tense against his own. It was over in less than a second, chaste and rather painful, since Dean totally missed and ended up kissing Castiel's upper lip. Not the best first kiss material, but hey, dude had pushed his buttons. A little dominant possessiveness would ensure Mark didn't get any more ideas.

Castiel's face was unreadable when Dean pulled away. Not that the Winchester was paying much attention to his reaction, anyway. He was too busy staring at his spit-slicked lips and fighting the urge to jump him again. "Come and find me when you're done, okay?"

He turned on his heel before the Novak could say anything, and Dean left back to Sam with the settling dread of really having fucked things up this time.


	9. Chapter 9

Never let it be said that Dean Winchester was not an adult. He was independent. He had a steady job. He had an apartment, for which he regularly payed rent. He cooked for himself, and he cleaned up after himself.

But sometimes, the only way to handle things was by acting like a child.

This was why Dean was hiding out under the safety of his bedsheets, head burrowed deep under his pillow like an ostrich. All he could hear was his shaky breath, too loud and too rough in the undisturbed silence teetering around him. He was hot and sweaty and disgusting, and he wanted a damn shower.

He didn't even understand why he had woken up so early. He _always_ slept past nine, without fail. Through thunder or wind or rain, when he had no work, he got his damn eight hours. So what was different this time?

Nerves, probably, he reasoned. Some panic, possibly dread, just a little bit of terror, maybe.

Okay, so he was scared. No, try freaking _terrified_. Really, a whole litany of scenarios whirled in his head; Cas yelling at him, Cas punching him, Cas never speaking to him again. Each possibility was worse than the next.

What the fuck had he been thinking yesterday? That he could just kiss Cas because he got a little jealous? Granted, Cas didn't _look_ mad afterwards, but he didn't look happy either. The rational part of Dean's brain reasoned that he'd probably understand, and he'd be able to just write it off as part of the act. But the part rocketing out of control with anxiety insisted there was no getting out of this problem without collateral damage. Dean had tried staying friends after break-ups a couple of times. Maybe the situation wasn't the exact same thing, but it was close enough. Without doubt, it would get awkward, and it would happen fast. In the end, he and Cas would just part ways before one of them maybe died of embarrassment.

And the worst part of all this shit was, why was he (literally) losing sleep over it so much? As previously mentioned: Dean? _Grown-ass man_. He never freaked out about anything. He cursed Cas and his damn _everything-_ his opinions, his quirks, his flaws, his eyes, everything that made Dean love him- and then cursed his own subconscious self for inviting him out here in the first place.

The soft click of the bathroom door opening and shutting interrupted his violent thoughts that would, in all honesty, not get him anywhere but self-pity. Dean lay as still as he could, trying to pass up as a sleeping lump, rather than a dumb-ass going through an emotional crisis. Castiel, angel that he was, played along for Dean's sake and pretended he hadn't been trying to corner him since yesterday afternoon.

The Winchester, still cooking under his sheets, waited a few more minutes after Castiel had left. Then he zipped into the bathroom, stripped down to nothing, and did his best to ignore the overwhelming smell of apple body wash wafting through the steamy air.

* * *

"They're staring."

"No one is staring."

"Yes, they are. They're staring at _us_."

"No, they're staring at your brother."

"Oh, and how would _you_ know?"

"He is the groom-to-be, and he is sitting right next to you."

Dean turned to his left and offered Sam a wry smile. His brother glared daggers back, hissing a sharp, "Shut up, will you?" as Mary's voice flowed through the garden. Dean rolled his eyes, and he settled back into his seat. "Why are we rehearsing how to eat dinner, anyway?" he asked.

"We are going over the seating once we get back from the ceremony," Castiel returned softly, eyes trained on Mary.

Dean snorted. "Jeez, don't even get me started on the service, thought I'd pass out from boredom. Can't we get some sort of entertainment up in there?"

"I don't think the church would approve your idea of entertainment, Dean," Cas answered with an amused huff. He stayed silent for a moment, then, "Dean, I need to talk to you."

A siren started wailing and red alarms blew up in Dean's mind. He didn't meet Castiel's eyes. "Right now, man? Can it wait? My dad's giving us a pretty nasty stink-eye." He nodded over to John's direction and winced at the look he was sending them.

"Dean, I'm serious-"

"Look, Cas, I know you are, okay? But not right now." He felt like shit for cutting Cas short like that, and even shittier when he saw the dejected glance the Novak sent his way, but relief washed over him when it was clear Castiel wasn't going to speak again.

They spent the rest of the rehearsal in silence, and when his mom finally wrapped up, Dean all but jumped out of his seat. The party sluggishly started for the house, chattering amongst themselves. Cas busied himself with Sam, while John talked Dean's ear off about behaving at his brother's wedding, and saving his and Cas' canoodling for when they were alone (Dean's face had almost exploded from heated embarrassment). Thankfully, Mary slid in between them soon after, each of her arms linked to the two men's, and informed Dean of the refrigerator's sudden malfunction, which they should get fixed soon if they wanted the cake to remain intact. So once he got back inside, Dean briefly caught up with Cas for a quick update.

"Not sure how long it'll take," he explained, "but I'll be back as soon as I can. You sure you'll manage by yourself?"

"Sometimes I think you don't even know me, Dean," Castiel quipped back.

"Well, this ain't one of your fancy, high-end parties," the other answered. "This is friends and family of the Winchesters, and they're gonna eat us alive the minute they hear we're dating."

"Any advice before entering the battlefield?" Cas humoured him.

"Yeah, if Bobby or Ellen get to you, make sure to bitch about me. They'll like that," he said, undoing two more buttons of Cas' shirt, the sleeves of which were rolled up past his elbows, showing off his delicious biceps. "Jody's great, so feel free to gush with her," Dean went on, as Cas stubbornly redid one button. "And for the love of God-" He enunciated every word with a drag of his fingers through Cas' thick black hair, "-stay away from Charlie."

He looked down to meet Cas' eyes, which were already gazing at him with amusement and fondness. Dean gave a small smile in return as Castiel said, "I'll be sure to do that."

"Good." Dean's chest felt strangely tight. "Knock 'em dead, babe." He had meant it as a tease, but his voice came out far more sincere than he had intended.

Cas grinned through his flush. "Go fix the fridge, Dean."

Dean joined his mother soon after, pretending to be blissfully unaware of her smug smile. As they started for the kitchen, she nudged his shoulder. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything?" At Dean's reddened face, she giggled and looped her arm around the crook of his elbow. "Don't worry, he'll do fine."

Dean peeked over his shoulder and back at Cas (so far only cornered by Garth), then looked at window to his right. "If I jump through, you think I'll get out of this crap?"

He received a slap upside the head in response.

* * *

The fridge was an easy fix, and soon Dean found himself with a cold beer in hand and scanning the room for Cas. It wasn't an easy job; the place was packed with Sam's college friends as well as some buddies from high school, the Moores and _their_ gang, and the Winchester associates. Mary had disappeared in an instant, her crabby husband spotted and locked in sight. Dean could see Sam towering over everyone else, Jess at his arm as they chatted away with Jody. Ash and Garth were talking to a pair of Jessica's cousins, Jo was entertaining one of Sam's college pals. Ellen had been sitting in the kitchen, drinking with Rufus and Frank, when Dean had went in to fix the fridge, so he didn't worry about Cas having to fend her off.

"Where the heck have you _been?_" Dean was literally punched back into reality when someone jabbed him in the arm. A sharp jolt and a twist was followed by a flash of red. Charlie scowled at him playfully, arms crossed over her chest.

"Jesus," Dean heaved. "Scared the crap out of me, Charlie." He ruffled her hair, then brought her in for a hug. "How are you? How's school?"

"Good, and good," she replied simply, her voice muffled behind his chest. "You?"

"Same old. Anything new with you?"

Charlie smiled sheepishly. "I went out with this girl, Glenda, a couple of times."

"The cute one you told me about? From your Mythology class?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. She asked if I wanted to go out for a drink two weeks ago," Charlie explained. "We went out two more times after that." She then pinched at his black Henley meaningfully, and asked, "So, what about you? Any new developments? With stuff? Of the dating kind?"

Dean sighed. "All right, who told you, 'cause I'm really starting to lose track-"

"I don't know what I find harder to believe," Charlie went on as if he hadn't spoken. "You and Cas dating, or you not telling me about it."

"I didn't wanna flaunt my personal life," he explained. "And I was right not to. You guys are all a bunch of gossiping old women."

Charlie broke into a sheepish grin. "I know. I'm sorry. But this is huge! I mean, you- and Cas! You and Cas _together!_ How did it happen?"

"Michael's birthday, two months ago," Dean rattled off like a parrot.

Charlie clinked her tongue. "I know _that!_ Your mom told me. But how? I mean, how did you guys finally get it?"

"What, you want details?"

"Yes!"

Well shit, he and Cas never discussed the details. Fuck, they really should have planned beforehand.

"Uh," Dean stuttered, gaping like a fish. "I dunno- I finished my beer, got up, and kissed him."

"Dean Winchester, you don't have a single romantic bone in your body." Charlie snorted. "Come on, try again."

"I just- looked," Dean trailed off, thinking back to his conversation with Sam, when they had been mowing the garden as his gaze flew over Charlie's head. "Seriously looked. At him, and stuff between us." Then, in the corner of his eye, he spotted him, by the large window, standing beside Bobby. Sunlight streamed over his face, framing his dark hair with golden highlights, illuminating his wide grin and his crinkling eyes. It made Dean smile. "And it just kind of... snapped. Into place, just like that."

When he looked back down, Charlie was wearing an identical smile. "And the first kiss? Were there fireworks?" she teased.

"_No,_" Dean retorted. "It was pretty sucky, 'cause I kinda jumped him and missed. I don't think he liked it very much."

Charlie snorted into her hand. "Very smooth, Winchester."

Dean shrugged. "Well, whatever. You happy now? Gonna quit bugging me?"

"No. Where was the first date?"

Dean groaned. He glanced to the side, and considered the window again.

* * *

By the time Dean had dealt with Ellen, then Jo, then Bobby, then Ellen _again, _three o'clock was closing in, and the guests were finally starting to check out. Honestly, Jody had been the only one Dean actually enjoyed talking about Cas with. She didn't tease him or ask unnecessary, awkward questions or call him a 'blind idjit', just patted his cheek and told him to be good.

As for Castiel himself, Dean only got to speak to him twice; once to compare notes, and once when they hid out in the bathroom for a small breather (that one got them in trouble with John, who had muttered something about the two behaving like horny teenagers, and not mature adults).

During the entirety of their short period in the house's ridiculously-sized, luxurious bathroom, Dean could tell Cas wanted to bring up the subject they (okay, _Dean_) had been avoiding since yesterday. But the thing was, talking could lead to an argument. An argument could lead to awkwardness. And awkwardness would lead to... well, less than desired consequences. So Dean steered clear. He was being a damn coward, but for a good cause. At least, that was what he had been telling himself for the past four hours.

Fuck, he was so fucking _fucked_.

"Dean."

The Winchester jolted so hard his chair jumped with him. A look over his shoulder established it was only a confused, frowning Sam. "Sammy. I thought you were Ellen."

"I- What?" Sam's face scrunched up. "Never mind. Everyone's officially gone. You can come out of hiding now."

The truth was, Dean wasn't hiding, he simply needed to be alone. His brain had been working too rapidly, jumping to conclusions, then reeling back to assess the situation. Out there, in the crowd and noise, he couldn't get any thinking done. So he'd retired to the library for some downtime.

Dean glanced around the room, with its four walls fitted with bookshelves, each neatly filed with books according to the author. He'd never be able to pull something like that off. Any time he even remotely tried to clean up his desk, there'd always end up being twice the mess than before. "Gimme a sec. I'm enjoying the quiet."

Sam sighed, but he pulled up a chair and settled beside his brother. "So, how you holding up?"

"I've been prodded and poked like a bunny," Dean admitted. "You?"

With a shrug, he answered, "Not too bad. Mainly dealt with congratulations. Some people asked about the ceremony, and why the after-party was in the garden, and if there are any nuts in the cake." To which Dean snorted in response.

"It's gonna kick ass, Sam," Dean said. "I mean it." Sam nodded mutely, and for a moment, they stayed silent, taking in the blissful sound of _nothing_. Then Dean's voice interrupted again, "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Is it weird?" Dean asked before he could stop himself. "That Cas and I are dating?" _If it was real, would it be weird?_

Sam's eyebrows raised comically and his lips quirked downwards as he shrugged. "No, not really. I mean, you guys were always _just_ best friends, so the whole kissing thing's sometimes surprising to see, because I'm not used to it. But I wouldn't call it weird. We've all seen it coming, even if you guys were always too dense to realize it."

And like that, Dean knew he had to talk with Castiel, whatever the consequences. Sex or no sex, fight or no fight, it wasn't fair, not on either of them. Whatever problems they'd ever came across, they always sorted it out. And whether or not his luck would pull through this time, Dean wasn't sure. But knowing his fortune, he didn't put too much hope into it.

Still, you can't act like a child forever. Sometimes problems had to be faced head on. And Dean was nothing if not a grown, stubborn-as-hell adult.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry for the bit of delay, school ruins everything as usual. But this chapter was massively fun to write, Dean's point of view is rapidly becoming my favourite to write. Wow, one more chapter and we're done! This was my shortest story yet, I think, out of the multichapter ones? Maybe. Probably. I think so.

Anyway, won't say my goodbyes and thank yous to all you lovely people just yet! I'm guessing next chapter should be finished tomorrow. Saturday equals happy, free Klara, and happy, free Klara equals writing.


	10. Chapter 10

July 25th, last day before the wedding. It was only 10 AM, and already Dean's head was ringing with orders and requests. Help Sam bring out the tables into the garden. Hitch up the fairy lights with Jess. Get your father away from the fridge. Give Mrs Moore a hand with those plates. Find an extra fork. _Get your father away from the fridge_. He was running left, right, front and back all at once, then suddenly it was noon and all he wanted was a damn beer. Mary had wanted him to make sure the tables were bolted down properly, but Jess, his knight in shining armor, assured him she had it covered.

With another glance to ensure his mother wasn't paying attention, Dean scurried off to the direction of the house, and ducked in through the glass door. Upon seeing the kitchen was thankfully empty, he grabbed at the fridge's handle, ripped the door back and picked out the coldest bottle. He slumped into the chair closest to him, popped the cap off and took a deep draw.

Head hanging over the back of his chair, he smacked his lips in relief. "Thank the freakin' lord, that's good."

"Dean Winchester, are you slacking?" His vision flew to the arch opening into the entrance hall, and found Castiel standing in the middle, arms crossed over his chest comically.

"Hey, fuck you, I've been working my ass off," Dean shot back without any real venom. "Two hours, man. I needed a damn break." After another sip of his drink, he jerked his chin at the Novak. "Anyway, where have you been?"

"Helping you father and Mr Moore with the flower and food arrangements," Cas replied while he settled in the seat across. Making grabby-hands at Dean's beer, he went on, "Everything is in order, though."

Dean passed him the bottle. "My dad annoy you?"

"I annoyed him plenty," John's voice wavered above his head, "about how too good he is for you." Dean and Cas shared a chuckle, and the senior Winchester helped himself in the fridge. "Where's your mother?" he asked and picked up the bottle opener in front of Dean.

"Outside."

John threw his head back and chugged back a good half of his drink. He warned, "Neither of you have seen me." Dean offered a salute to his father, which the other returned with an absent wave as he wandered out into the living room. Dean turned back to find Cas already watching him. Their eyes met instantly, and shared a hidden, soft smile.

Fuck it, Dean thought. It was now or never. He couldn't take it anymore. If things worked out, great, he'd get laid tonight. If not, they'd be home in a few days anyway, and then he could hide away from the world, wallowing in as much self-pity as he could muster.

"Cas." His voice sounded annoyingly shaky and rough. "I, uh- That thing you wanted to talk about with me. Do you wanna...?"

Castiel, suddenly refusing to meet his eyes, nodded mutely. "May we go somewhere private?"

The Winchester threw a look over his shoulder, confirming his suspicion of the pantry being empty. He locked eyes with Cas again, and nodded over to the hall behind them. As the two quietly stood from their seats, Dean decisively ignored the painful pounding in his chest. No way was he losing his cool now, he was going to handle the situation, damn it. He tried to mentally prepare himself for several different resolutions, but by the time the pantry door clicked behind them, he had nothing.

He sighed sharply through his nose, then forced the words out before he chickened out. "Okay, cards on the table, Cas. I need to know what's up with you and me, man. What- How do you stand here?" He gestured between them.

When Cas' eyes turned gut-wrenchingly miserable, well, that was when Dean's heart started sinking. "I don't think you'd want my answer," he said.

Cue heart plummeting into his stomach. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, Cas, it's fine, okay? Just tell me, 'cause I get it- I do, man."

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"No, it's- it's okay. We don't- You don't have to see me anymore, if you don't want to."

Dean expected Cas to thank him politely and leave. He expected that they'd probably never speak to each other again except when needed.

But he didn't expect Cas to glare at him so indignantly, like he'd slapped him or offended his mother. "What-? No!" he hissed. "I'm in love with you, idiot, why would you _possibly_ think I'd want that?"

Dean choked on his own spit. _"__What?"_

"What?" Cas' brow furrowed. He squinted at Dean as if he'd grown a second head.

"Since when?!" Dean spluttered.

"Since we were fifteen," he admitted, his voice broken, like he was on the verge of tears.

"Fifteen- Jesus _fuck_, Cas, why didn't you _say_ anything?!"

"And lose the only friend I had?" Cas countered heatedly. "You would've been furious! I- I would've-"

Dean searched his friend's face helplessly, and then like a ton of bricks, it hit him. The way Castiel looked at him like he'd kicked his goddamn puppy, the way he sounded so distressed now... He thought he was losing him. Cas loved him, and he thought he was losing him.

Feeling like shit was an understatement at the moment. Idly, Dean wondered if he'd ever wrongly put someone behind bars, with detective skills like that.

He seized Cas' face, his thumbs rubbing soothingly over his stubbled jaw, the same way he'd done so many times before when the Novak had distressed over his father's absence, resulting in near-panic attacks. "Cas, fuck, _fucking_ fuck- of course I'm not mad!" A shaky laugh escaped his throat, and his entire body vibrated. "I thought _you'd_ be pissed 'cause of _me_." He gave him a gentle jolt, his words barely a murmur. "I love you too, Cas. Jeez, I'd never- When was I ever mad at you, man?"

"There was that one time I dropped a potato chip in the Impala," Cas supplied quietly.

Dean clicked his tongue. "Rhetorical." A burst of snorts and chuckles filled the air, chasing the tension out. "Son of a bitch, Cas, how is it possible we were both such dumb-asses?"

"Michael says romantic attachment clouds sixty percent of our reasoning, resulting in inanity and jumping to conclusions."

Most of Cas' words flew over his head, so Dean settled for a blank, "Right."

He realized that, for the first time, there was no one around them, no obligation to pretend to be anything. Whatever he did, he did because he wanted to. So he angled Cas' chin, leaned down and brushed their lips gently. No need for something fancy and impressive. Just a simple affirmation that he'd finally got his head out his ass.

Cas, it seemed, didn't appreciate the gesture, because he grabbed the hairs on the nape of Dean's neck and yanked him back down.

Dean's gasp was lost in Cas' mouth. "Boy, you sure know how to charm a guy, don't you, Cas?" he managed to mumble.

"Fourteen years, Winchester. Do it properly, or _I_ will," the other murmured.

"Do you always expect everything to be your way?"

"Do you always talk when you shouldn't?"

Smirking, Dean wrapped his arm around the Novak's slim hips and pressed him closer to his chest. Cas let him lick into his mouth without protest, swallowing Dean's soft moan at the warm, wet contact. As his hands went to his chest, tugged at the Henley's soft material, the Winchester decided to move the party along, slip his hands under the back of Cas' shirt and experimentally play with the waistband of the peeking boxers.

Castiel jumped at touch, before muttering, "Not now, Dean. Later."

"Mm, why not do it now, and then later _again?_" Dean suggested.

"Because we're in a pantry, Dean. There is food here. Food we _eat_."

The other pouted playfully at him, but held his hands up in defeat when he saw there was no changing Cas' mind. His grin faded, and Dean started seriously, "Cas, you- You sure you wanna do this, with me? I mean for real this time? 'Cause you know my family better than anyone. It's gonna be torture. Sammy's a bitch most of the year, my dad's unnerving at best, and my family friends? They won't let this go for years to come."

For a horrifying moment, Castiel seemed to consider his words. But a smug smile bloomed on his face as he said, "Only if you're willing to go through the same with mine."

* * *

The ceremony, on the whole, wasn't that bad. The service was beautiful. Everyone was happy and friendly. Sam and Jessica were adorable. Dean will admit he teared up a little.

What he had really been looking forward to though, was the after-party. Partly because he was completely starved to death, but mostly because it meant that he could drag Cas off to a secluded, dim room to make out (and possibly more). But now there he was, hours later, at the party's peak, and Cas was nowhere in sight. That didn't make Dean too happy.

After the toasts were given out and the food eaten, they had temporarily split ways; Dean to go to the bathroom, and Cas to help Mary with the cake. When the Winchester came back, the guests were chomping down on the dessert, but Castiel was gone.

That had been some fifteen minutes ago. Dean was two seconds away from getting to his feet and heading back into the house to look for him, when- speak of the devil- Castiel emerged on the back porch, making his way through the guests scattered around the garden.

"Where have you been?" Dean asked, standing up as the Novak approached him.

"I'm sorry, Michael called me. I lost track of time." And to emphasize on his apology, Cas pecked Dean's lips softly. After that, Dean's brain wasn't really good for much else. "How was the cake? Did you try some?"

The other shrugged. "Not bad. I'm more of a pie guy, though."

Cas' bright laugh was enough to make Dean rest their foreheads together, noses brushing as they locked their mouths together in earnest. The faint groan Cas let out was lost against their joined lips, as he dragged his fingers through the short blond strands on the nape of Dean's neck. An annoyed huff and a couple of cat-calls sounded from Bobby, and Jo and Ash respectively, but neither payed much attention.

"Dean," Cas murmured, his voice a little stifled, "would you be extremely angry if I asked you to dance with me?"

Dean chuckled in return. "After the embarrassment my family's put me through this past week? I don't think I have any more dignity left to lose," he said, before he let Castiel lead him to the middle of the garden.

Luckily, the song was from a fairly newer era (if the 80s counted as 'fairly newer') and not the classical stuff, meaning there would be none of that ridiculous waltz thing. It was slower, more of a love song than anything else, which in hindsight, agreed with the occasion. In the mass of the slow-dancing people, Dean spotted his parents, Garth and Jess' cousin and in the dead centre, Jess and Sammy.

"So," Dean started while he wound Cas' arms around his neck and placed his own on the Novak's hips, "anything new on Michael's end?"

Castiel grimaced slightly. "It seems that _my_ side has finally found out."

Dean's eyebrows rose. "What, about-?" He subtly gestured between the two of them.

"Michael is shocked we've managed to keep it secret for so long, Lucifer and Balthazar are appalled that I didn't tell them, and Gabriel claims he's known all along."

"Apparently, Gabe's not the only one," Dean supplied, referring to practically everyone around them. "How'd Michael even find out?"

"My brother makes it his business to know everything." Castiel hummed amusedly, then went on, "They all want me to bring you over to Michael's for dinner, though. The minute we get back to Lawrence."

"Yeah, that'll be fun." Dean snorted. "Three hours of sitting around a table with Gabriel's innuendos, Lucifer's smug face and Michael's evil glares. How could I possibly say no?"

"Gabriel will make pie, Lucifer will be occupied with Balthazar, and I will make sure Michael doesn't bother you too much," Castiel promised. "Please, as a favour for me? In return, well..." A sly smirk played on his lips and he leaned in close. Dean shivered at the feeling of Cas' breath against his cheek. "I don't have classes until September, and as far as I know, you don't have any cases in dire need of solving. I _could_ take you to my summer house outside of town. Just you and me."

"Alone?" Dean growled playfully, tugging Cas' body into his.

"Utterly and completely."

The Winchester moistened his lips, his eyes trained solely on Castiel's perfect mouth. "Well, I'm nothing if not understanding."


End file.
